I fail greatly in organizing myself, I barely ever make plans for an image.

I prefer to let them emerge from a unique choreography of decision and action.

Most of the times, I also fail to properly describe my vision. I don’t have the necessary patience to be loyal to my sight and I only get as much as a glimpse of the images in my fantasy thus I cannot study them enough to accurately depict them.

The sense someone can make of this explanation, is also the description of its first viewer, me.

The viewer is inevitably free to interpret the artwork on his own, which dramatically raises the chances of finding two morons to agree or disagree, which gives me hope to continue seeking for another moron like myself to create a village together and go live there. I would really like to believe that the intention behind a piece of art matters, and if everyone is allowed to re-shape an idea in order to bring it down or high on their consciousness, then the game is losing its point. If I intent to say tomatoes and you see potatoes we have to work together on our way of co-existing otherwise only one tomato or potato will prevail.

I see the mounted patrol guarding the marching of the Epitaph. A silent crowd depressed by their presence unable to speak, unable to lift the gaze off the ground. Carrying the grave of their will, deprived of every emotion besides fear , which is the one that keeps them moving.

It is a piece that you would most probably find in an evil villain’s mansion. At least according to the movies.

Medium: Oil on streched raw cloth

Dimensions: 90cm x 120cm x 4cm

Year: 2025