RESEARCH NOTE 001
August 2026
Why Does Painting Begin with a Question?

I rarely begin a painting knowing exactly what I am looking for.

There may be an image, a body, a colour, a spatial tension, sometimes only the necessity to paint. But the question is not yet clear.

It appears later.

Often, only when a painting is finished do I begin to ask why I painted precisely this image and not another. What made this painting necessary? What was I trying to understand before I was able to formulate it in words?This is where painting becomes, for me, a form of inquiry.I do not paint in order to express something I already know. I paint in order to encounter the question that the painting contains; a question that, before painting it, I was not yet able to formulate.

Internal Quantum · Oil on canvas · 120x95 cm · 2026

Rectangle of Questions

The still subject
closes itself in a perfect space:
bodies that find no way out;
and every line traces a defeat,
inside a simulated geometry,
where the goddess bears a message.

I linger, standing before you,
rectangle of questions,
but I cannot decipher you.

What does this light say of me,
that bathes the room’s darkness?
What do you think, woman
left curled in the threshold?
What warning does this glow carry?
Why do you let yourself be swallowed,
by this vanishing point?
What do these two parallels hide,
that dodge infinity?

You look at me with dimmed eyes,
yet everything is full of color.

Where have the goddesses remained,
covered beneath these drapes of brick.
Your images are born and die
dizzyingly,
like my questions before you.

Let me into your pink room
and whisper your riddles to me.
Even if I won’t know the answer,
I would like to go on accumulating doubts.

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