“There are stories that one can tell best, while backfloating in the pool, with the scuba diver feet on, whistling a song. There's a paintings odyssey I carry in my heart, a story I immersed myself into, which carried me or my words or my artwork back and forth, from the Netherlands to Bucharest, from Germany to New York, from Paris to Madrid to Portugal and soon to come, Rome.It has carried me or just my essence, condensed into brushstrokes or written words, back and forth, from agony to extasy. It all started with a fortunate encounter with an old painter in a supermarket in Leiden, asking me if I want to become his muse. I never saw him again, but the "what if" seeds were already planted in my soul. What if I can do it myself, what if I can become an artist myself and teach myself joy and, as the fluid learning and creation process goes on flowing, I can pass the teachings of love, that costed me so much emotional consumption, to other people as well? One important chapter of this painting odyssey, probably the most important one, is about people. I learnt there are two types of people: those who would kindly encourage you to go on and support you emotionally and those who would attempt to cut off your wings because they cannot imagine themselves with wings. But love, all of them deserve it.”