I'm Never Really Sure What That Word

Almost Every Work Of Art Is An Analogy. When I Make A Representation Of Something, This Too Is An Analogy To What Exists; I Make An Effort To Get A Grip On The Thing By Depicting It. I Prefer To Steer Clear Of Anything Aesthetic, So As Not To Set Obstacles In My Own Way And Not To Have The Problem Of People Saying: 'ah, Yes, That's How He Sees The World, That's His Interpretation.'

Architecture Was, Or Is, A Kind Of Hobby, An Inclination I Have To Fiddling Around And Building Things. Putting Up Shelves Or Cupboards, Or Making Tools, Or Designing Houses ... It Always Has A Functional Or Social Motivation. If Social Changes Are In The Air, I Am Gripped Immediately By The Desire To Build, And I Think That I Accelerate Or Anticipate Changes In My Life By Doing So, At Least In Draft. In The Case Of My House, That Was Anticipation: In Other Words, First Build, Then Change One's Life.

I've Never Found Anything To Be Lacking In A Blurry Canvas. Quite The Contrary: You Can See Many More Things In It Than In A Sharply Focused Image. A Landscape Painted With Exactness Forces You To See A Determined Number Of Clearly Differentiated Trees, While In A Blurry Canvas You Can Perceive As Many Trees As You Want. The Painting Is More Open.

My Method Is Related To An Attempt To Do Something That Might Be Understood By Today's World, Or That Could At Least Provide Understanding. In Other Words, Doing Something I Understand And That Everyone Understands. This Natural Desire For Communication Is Also Found In Other Domains, Like Reading And Discourse, Etc. I Also Hate Repeating Myself; It Gives Me No Pleasure Whatsoever. Once I've Understood Something, I Need To Start Off On New Ground.

I'm Trying To Paint A Picture Of What I Have Seen And What Moved Me, As Well As I Can. That's All.