After my trip to India I invented an alter ego who might have travelled and seen in my place : The Wanderer. This could be a figure from German romanticism, such as the story tellers in the “Lieder”, those agitated migrants who live in perpetual movement, propelled by a restlessness and who touch humans and their lives with their eyes without being a part of the picture.
This movement, in India, and the power of what our eyes touch, allows us to forget ourselves. Perception becomes lighter, a perception with holes of an existence stained by air, stained by non-existence.
The pictures in multiple layers are marked by the symbol of a tantric drawing, fingerprint of an ever present and obscure divinity.