Creator

Let me tell you how things work, at least for me. Never from perfect sketches, but from a chaos of instinctively drawn lines, sometimes wrong, but always sincere. That's how I like to draw. First I leave my hand free, then I understand what I have done.

This figure — the man without a clear face, but with intention — is about the artistic gesture in its most direct form. When you touch the paper and a world appears. When nothing seems right, but that's where the energy comes from. The shadows are not fair. Proportions do not obey either. But that's not what matters.

It matters how, from an imperfect line, something alive appears. What matters is that a rigid city can take on color from a simple human touch. Perhaps this is, in fact, the meaning of art: not to explain the world, but to touch it until it begins to breathe.

Man is still the "Creator," even outdated and primitive compared to today's electronic computing power.