Biography:
My world is a construct of lines. Lines that through their derivation, dispersion, convention,and disposition, our external world forms and cultivates us in itself. These lines, I follow with zeal; Their ceaseless movement, the way they depart, expand, join again and make a new image.
The world is a construct of lines.
What I sense above all in these attachments and detachments of lines is the formation of suffering. Suffering for me is not that dark despair that wanes the light or stills the movemen; it is the matrix of pleasure. It abides inside us and takes various forms. It is as if there is no other way but to live with it and express it in various forms.
The world is a construct of lines and suffering. It is among lines and suffering that my “self” lives.
My world is a construct of lines. Lines that through their derivation, dispersion, convention,and disposition, our external world forms and cultivates us in itself. These lines, I follow with zeal; Their ceaseless movement, the way they depart, expand, join again and make a new image.
The world is a construct of lines.
What I sense above all in these attachments and detachments of lines is the formation of suffering. Suffering for me is not that dark despair that wanes the light or stills the movemen; it is the matrix of pleasure. It abides inside us and takes various forms. It is as if there is no other way but to live with it and express it in various forms.
The world is a construct of lines and suffering. It is among lines and suffering that my “self” lives.
C.V