I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.
... there is a skeleton (or death) that flees terrified in the face of my will to live.
I must fight with all my strength so that the little positive things that my health allows me to do might be pointed toward helping the revolution. The only real reason for living.
Passion is the bridge that takes you from pain to change.
What would I do without the absurd and the ephemeral?
pain, pleasure and death are no more than a process for existence. The revolutionary struggle in this process is a doorway open to intelligence