A text about my artwork. Sure! I studied at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, and I continue to draw and produce lithographs and etchings every day. I’ll describe what happens when, a brush in hand, with black ink and water, I face a white page. I know all about the famous story of the writer, terrorized by the blank page. It’s not that I don’t have an idea, but an idea, a thought, is not enough to start. To make it work, my hand, my arm, my body all have to be involved; I have to immerse myself totally into the bath of my drawing. I have to be awash in ink. And for that, I have to believe in what I do, believe that it’s true, that it will appear in front of me—a visible presence, but one that’s also physical, emotional, authentic, alive, and which is far beyond myself. So, overtaken by my subject, by the motif, the goal, my hand and spirit are one. I am nothing more than a human being who paints, a voice in a symphony, a great symphony..