I have always been astonished by the nature. So endlessly variable it appears in changing seasons, weather, positions of the Sun and in my own changeable moods! Everything keeps changing, arising, growing, dying and arising again. I return to the same places which aren´t the same any more, and I, too, return a little different each time. Sometimes my eyes are attracted by distant horizons, hills and clouds. Other times my eyes turn downwards to my feet, and, a surprise! What a lovely little fungus on a thin stall! From the close view it is as colourful, mysterious and dignified as a rose, or, let´s say, a pine. It´s only the scale what is different, while the reality is equally miraculous. Can you imagine tracing how thin fibres of this tiny mushroom weave their way through the soil, intertwine among roots under the ground, join other fibres and finally form an intricate network spread over square kilometres?
Each plant, every creation has both its visible and hidden face. We don´t know what is happening under the ground, how many sprouts are just breaking through the hard skin of a seed aiming infallibly upwards. We can´t see the tree´s veins through which the sap is streaming nor where a bark beetle is biting elaborate tunnels through the bark. We can only guess, with more or less erudition, how everything is related, yet we are never going to understand everything. And this is the splendour, awareness that it all transcends me and all I can do is try to be a part of it, not obstruct, no more than support but never go against.
With painting, it is similar. The first impulse can be just anything. Later, however, a lengthy search begins. As if I plunged into the core of an object and started out an exploration. Formerly, I used to explore under the microscope. I recall the images of cells and tissues, though I used to be bothered by the obligation to describe them in scientific terms, turn them into lifeless diagrams, classify them.
On a canvas, I can explore without need to cut the object through. I submit myself to my sense of direction, I search, often return and the painting is developed slowly and step by step. There is no need to be on site. I can explore in my studio. I believe that I don´t hinder and that my sense will draw me to the goal.
However, sometimes I happen to go astray. The painting becomes stuck, as if there was no other possible right stroke. So I turn the canvas face down and leave it for a year or more. And then, when I look at it after such a long while, suddenly everything seems so clear and obvious. The way has been found…