In college I wanted to be a soccer player and then a musician. But that didn’t work out. So I did part time jobs. I played. No fun! I worked. No fun! Music was a great hobby, but nothing more. I realized life had never been important to me. But in the back of my mind, I was always thinking about art. If there are problems in the world, in life and I place them into an art perspective, they suddenly make sense to me. You could say, I finally grew up. I have no practical knowledge and so the world has no use for me. Art is all I can offer.

I have a working-class background. My grandfather was a fisherman and my father a welder. They never realized I’m an artist or maybe they never believe me, because in that case they would have asked me to paint them beautiful sunsets on the beach or something. It would be fun if I show them my pages in Architectural Digest, and they finally take me serious.

In the beginning, I couldn’t let go of a painting.  Exhibitions are good occasions, to distance yourself from a body of work. Some painters need deadlines, work to the last minute. Not me. I paint long in advance. I never have deadlines.