About the process
For there to be a composition, there must be a conversation. This dialogue, of course, could be with another person, with nature, with your morning cup of coffee. But for me, it starts with a melody.
I don’t paint after hearing the music; I paint because I am hearing it. The process is immediate, reactive. The physical biproduct in art stands as the visual residue of that interplay, a record of what happens when sound finds its form in space.
Enjoy, and let the music guide you through the visual journey.
Si 32:3-, Parle, vieillard, car cela te sied, mais avec discrétion: n’empêche pas la musique.
Tumultuous. Venezia.
March 2024, oil on canvas, 65×90cm
Those stormy nights, deceptively still at first, where the air holds its breath before the wind begins to stir, hinting at something far more turbulent beneath the surface. The kind of nights that leave you questioning whether you’ll find refuge from the impending tempête, or if you’re destined to stand exposed in its path. With Rachmaninov’s Trio Élégiaque No. 2 as my constant companion, the haunting melodies seeped into the canvas, shaping the mood and tension of the work. The music mirrored the storm—its quiet beginnings, the swelling unrest, and the inevitable surge—capturing the essence of those nights where calm is only a prelude to chaos.
Innumerable. Venezia.
December 23 2024, oil on canvas, 65×90cm
I woke up on a Sunday in the hotel where Brodsky had stayed when he first arrived in Venice. He once mentioned what its like waking up in this town, “to the chiming of its innumerable bells, as though behind your gauze curtains a gigantic china teaset were vibrating on a silver tray in the pearl-gray sky.”
The thought lingered as this melody began to surface in my mind, and I stepped outside to meet the morning light…