Seeing, apart and away from our body, is a way of touching objects in the most remote depths of our soul. I am on a journey to infinity; beyond the presence of the "organized entities" that I touch with my eyes: on a journey that you can join me. Within this extraordinary journey between disorganized churnings, I search for the illusion of the wise creature I admire. Whilst my eyes touch, ''my left hand'' tells all...

My hands are on my canvas. My hand turns to a sensitive mirror. A refined moment of sensitivity comes to life between my canvas and my eyes. For that moment, I feel my eyes are my canvas. And objects hit the eyes and their reflections in my eyes are transposed to my canvas. This is when an eye takes numerous impressions depending on the item's color, shape and appearance. Even it earns attributes that I have not known.

It is because the variety of sensations; the image of an object reflects within our eyes. What my "left hand" does--while the eyes are capable of seeing--adding the visual touch to seeing is like having a horse pull a cart different directions that is already drawn by two powerful horses.

I dream of birds in the depths of the ocean, AND of fish in the highs of the sky. I see the color of the music and hear the music of color. The color of life, birth, and of death all meet within me simultaneously. My dreams sometimes can churn-up gales or plunge me into the deepest fathoms.

I take this trip of illusions through my canvas, always with my music and the "COLOR" on the tip of my brush.