I retain only one unique line, a line that exists solely by the artifice of my choice : I place the brush, the charcoal or the pencil at a point and glide, almost closing my eyes. The anecdotal details, the anatomical precision, may or may not survive, it doesn’t matter !

The rhythm, the movement and the play of light structure the inner presence of the living – its epidermal vibrations, its anxieties, its pleasures.

I am not a portraitist, like those seen on all the great squares of the world. The physiognomies are invented as the work progresses. The repentants succeed each other, giving way to the next one to follow.

But

Where and when to stop ?