I didn’t think I’d be painting butterflies. Moreover, I thought it was such a clichéd, kitschy topic, so colourful, girlish, tender.
None of these things. Certainly the variety of colours and shapes of butterfly wings is shocking, it is an endless treasure trove of inspiration. It was because of this beauty that we pinned them to our walls and looked at these dead bodies without spirit. My butterflies are dead from the beginning. They lack soul, they appear flat and still, only the colours of their wings vibrate. These lifeless, scaled jewels allow us to reflect on the beauty and harmony of the world.
These are not hyperrealistic images, they are only supposed to be a simulation of the beauty of nature, a bit flattened and remixed, torn apart. The separated wings hang in the void of paper, but no one has died, no one has suffered the fatal blow of a pin to feed our soul. Long live the butterflies!