The Open Chapter

Artists are frequently asked, "How do you know when a painting is finished?" For me, the answer is complex. I always say that as long as an artwork remains in my studio or my possession, it is vulnerable to change. I have worked on paintings that stood untouched for years, only to be altered later.

Of course, this is not how I operate on a daily basis. Most of my work reaches a point of conscious completeness. When I am satisfied with a piece, I declare it finished. Yet, until it leaves my hands, it remains an open chapter.

This process highlights the unconscious practices we painters experience. After 30 years of practice, I see recurring elements in my work—certain forms, color palettes, and significant marks always return. I have deep faith in these moments. They carry the essence of what I constantly seek. I listen to them and trust them, as if the art itself is an individual entity guiding me. I am simply a vessel, one component of a larger, more complex phenomenon.

My latest paintings are a perfect example. I call them water lilies, but deep down, they are just ovals and circles. Painting them brings me immense comfort and a sense of completeness. I love how they look and how they make me feel. The way they are marked reminds me of Zen calligraphy—that is exactly the right comparison. The rest of the process is the pure pleasure of playing with color. Each combination has its own voice; colors speak for themselves, and we, as humans, instinctively respond.