15/04/2026
There’s a strange moment when a painting stops being yours. Not just when it’s finished. That’s only technical. I mean the moment it leaves the studio and starts living somewhere else.
When it begins to bond with someone new, giving something back in each passing glance. In the morning light with a coffee in hand. In the periphery of a conversation over wine, with friends. That’s when it becomes something else.
This piece has found its home here in Quillan, and it feels right in a way I can’t explain. It’s less a picture of the Aude than a record of living inside it. Of trying to make sense of it. Or something like that.
Byron Hunte, thank you for trusting me and giving this painting a home where it can continue to give joy.
I feel a piece of work doesn’t stop when one puts the brushes down. It keeps shifting depending on who’s looking at it, and when.
And lately, this place, it’s been changing me too. Opening things up. Breaking habits. Letting the work become more honest, a little less polite.
More on the way.
