The main distinction of an artist is, or should be, insanity or, at least, the tendency to think and do absurd, showy, original and little comprehensible things for the common man. In particular, what attracts me the most is sharing my work, to the point of asking for very low prices. simple peanuts sometimes or flatly give it to those who appreciate it. Try me. This site requires a price standard. Very understandable and logical. But I would never refuse a reasonable offer. Just thinking about continuing, about having a penny to buy more colors and keep producing. Even when my works consist of a simple paper and in a small format, I always want to show my commitment to people, in order to brighten up a small corner of the house and invite reflection on the beautiful, the harmonious, the good vibes of the world. Some of these works have served as a study for large-format painting, but I have to honestly say that the study always looks better than the enlarged copy. In art, the first impulse, the first pictorial phrase, the first flash of inspiration, the first painted word that comes from the heart, is the most valuable. 75 years of age and more than 50 in the practice of painting, it could be said that I have learned something, that I have evolved, that I am satisfied with my work. But no. I still feel like Im halfway there, eager to learn, looking for the Philosophers Stone of art. It is wonderful to rejuvenate every day and that the night surprises you with a brush in hand. And to feel that the best of our production is yet to come, that we will start the last secret to color with only that we work with love and perseverance. Those of us who have a free style to paint are privileged. Nothing ties us to models, academies, markets, theories or other peoples fame. We simply let the hand run, it amuses us more than anything the fact that unsuspected figures of our hand appear. What will be the destination of our work Nothing that worries us less. The moment is the flame that consumes us, impatience our motivation. We are more curious than a cat. We rummage in the figures, scenes, ghosts, lights and darkness that are in the last corner of our beloved attic of consciousness. In a word we do not believe in reality but in poetry, not in certainty, but in doubt, ours is a magnificent superstition that separates us from the world and the common man, for misfortune or fortune. But the best thing is that we fervently want to share who we are and what we do. I hope to be a source where beauty is drunk, as if it were my contribution to bring about a fuller world, more peaceful and richer in spirituality....