Oil paint itself is also a theme in my work. Paint is a special substance: it is 4 euros in the tube; if you put it on a canvas, everything is still possible; you want to touch it with fingers, knead it. It's fluid, manageable and surprising or disappointing and sometimes paralyzing. That is freedom, freedom to do whatever you want; after all, it has the potential and the promise to be able to do anything with it.

The more a work takes on form, the more difficult it becomes; the image approaches a firmer figuration and the paint becomes quiet. Changes are becoming less and less extensive; and the temptation to tinker is great. It is the story of the hare and the tortoise; getting closer, but you don't seem to get there. Resistance to major change is increasing; the paint takes on a life of its own. Paint becomes more than just paint and thus becomes untouchable.

Paint is then no longer freedom. The work is finished as soon as you no longer dare to touch it; as soon as the feeling arises that you can no longer touch it. To stretch freedom of work, rigorous measures are needed and this inevitable downturn must be broken in time; if necessary with brute force, before it is too late.

I use the palette knife for this. In vain: the work escapes after all. That's when you can hang it on the wall and only look at it; untouchable, a closed chapter.

I find it fascinating to observe how a dynamic medium such as paint becomes so static over time.