My life, my painting

Being still a small well-behaved child, drawing delighted me, the painting reminded me of another world. I was no longer on earth, you know, I am floating above this old earth. My first pencil, my first chalk drawing on a wall with colored chalk, but the rain cruel killing my art every time. But then the love I had for this kind of creativity led me to begin again, always. All my life I thought paint colors illuminated my sad nights. My life was often messy, a bit like my studio now. Women, my children, my creations, through the love of the table, the art of cooking, and art simply. Ultimately, I still work for the pleasure of another, thinking of the other, creating for him. It is a form of therapy, the eyes of others on me, through my work. The eyes of the other land on my creation on their faces, and they tell me great stories that will be my painting in an uncertain future. My brain working nights and days, daily fatigue art that makes me want to do yet again and again. Paint to live again, live for the privilege of painting, creating ever. I created a few years ago now, a studio in Montparnasse, we were a few artists, several techniques, abstract painting, surreal, fantasy, erotic. Oil painting, acrylic, ink, charcoal, red chalk, clay, collage. It was a little cave of Ali Baba, was our world, art brought us together, nothing could happen to us. He was father of us all, and our mother was the creation, Rainbow. Paint, draw to live, but live to draw again and again. My life is surreal, fantastic my ideas and my erotic dreams. It's my life, my love for art ..