The only material of these drawings is smoke and its trace of soot. The trace of that smoke takes days to leave me, that smell is impregnated in my nostrils, in my hair and in my clothes, and I would not define it as a perfume, precisely. It’s a complex smell, deep black and greasy, the smell of something that has been about to burn but has not quite burnt, the smell of hundreds of candles that drip down on me covering trousers, jacket, glove, hat, floor, table… objects that later take on their own entity. It is dense, thick, the very opposite of the drawings it produces, light and delicate, more like a Japanese sumi-e with ink and water than the catharsis from which they emerge. I tend to play on the edge, and on this edge fire, despite its nature, with its destructive tendency, becomes creative, but this moment requires full attention, it takes only a tenth of a second for everything to ignite and go up in flames. Paradoxically, the effect of water in sumi-e is produced here by fire: the smoke is so penetrating that it draws by itself, entering through every possible nook and cranny. Luckily it is a smell that fades away, while the soot stays subtly attached, caressing the paper or the velvet.

 Pamen Pereira