It’s about a button. He is a little sad. There are two other buttons as well, but this one turns counterclockwise. After a lot of turning, it now enjoys it and has accepted the bird in its head — protects it, lets it fly — and everything that once felt heavy has become part of its journey. Flowers do not wither.
A new body of work: reconfigured memories. Only putting the brush down once the memory has been fully digested. After all, love goes through the stomach. Sometimes it also leads to a stomachache, because a full belly suffers from claustrophobia.
It is a fragile balance between staying seated and standing up, between remaining and wanting to leave. Taboos are broken. Houses burn. What has long been pressing to come out finds its place through a childlike intervention into the adult pictorial plane. Buttons, clouds, flowers.
Food: hunger!