Between a landscape that performs a vision, and abstraction that reveals thoughts, there is room for feeling. In this oil on canvas of a large scale which I have called “leaves” (feuillage in french), I have tried to get as close as possible to what I felt, at this moment - so magic and short-lived - of contemplation. I was lying on the grass, under a tree in my garden, staring at the sky through the leaves pierced by the sun beams. It was nature, of course, and real things, real colors. But there was certainly something else that I cannot tell, I cannot qualify, but that I beleive I made it appear on my painting.

Inside the hank of the shimmers, of the shapes, there was the fullness of this moment, in the sometimes deep contrasts, the feeling of an achievement, the end of the quest to reach the serenity of the soul. A soul that was not without troubles, shades, but a soul able to manage itself to reach this fulness. Too rare, too fast, but intense. But for sure, the will to paint it.