I made this utterly weird dream years ago of a merry-go-round wooden warhorse, bearing a richly adorned armor of gold and vibrant colors, oddly trapped into… a pickles jar. After a while, the horse awakes to life and starts to panic and wriggle to escape his glass prison. I instantly rush to help it but as I struggle to unscrew the lid, the jar starts to flatten itself, squashing until it gets thin as a paper sheet, forever freezing the desperate horse into a still and silent illustration.
When i woke up, i felt the urge to paint this disturbing vision to memorize it, and whilst doing so, I thought maybe this squeezed battle horse jiggling into a sparkling pickle marinade was actually… me. Maybe my unconscious pictured my life as a never ending roundabout, repeating day after day the same pointless actions; Maybe it was a red alert aimed at my conscious self suggesting that time had come to use the centrifugal force of the hamster wheel i was stuck into to reach a more desirable orbit. And so I did. Long short story, In a radical, exciting and complete opposite way to the former one, implying to set aside for a time art as a mean to earn my life.
6 years later, when the constant revolution around my new planet started to make me feel bored and needy for art again, I used the same energy to modify my trajectory to a new planet more compatible with my desire to restart my artistic career from scratch… And here I am today ; With my pickled horse story turning to be my existence pivot point, and bringing at this present stage of my life three essential lessons : one, It’s ok to be a quitter if whatever I quit doesn’t make me proud. Two : whatever I can do, I can do it again. Three : there is no comfort zone worth being stuck in. In any way. Period.
