I hear your desires of feminity. For a long time became established between us a dialogue made of colors, freshness, peculiarity. Still further, I would dare, it is my inner music.
Yes I dare ever stronger prints because you are incredibily audacious. You raise luxuriant gardens, road books, we travel together, we speak flowers and cities, orchards and fowls.
You told me that I accompany you in your life, I tell you you are my heroines.
[...] All about Anne Elisabeth
A sheet of canson, tubes, a music that since yesterday trots in my head: DOUCE France. A desire for certain colors, blush pink, peach, violet, bluish green, tangy green, lagoon, apricot. I spread the gouaches. An intention of painting, without premeditation. Suddenly my brushes fly, somehow take their liberty. I am behind, high, on a hill, I paint standing, I see the valley.
The painting takes its rhythm, suggesting me meadows, hay bales, trees lodged near thatched cottages. Charles Trenet sings
Soft colors, cottony, reflecting the "Dear country of my childhood, cradled in tender carelessness". Tribute to a singer-poet who, the time of a chorus, inspired me a drawing.