The erotic, as in my Shunga paintings, is an endless hall of mirrors, each showing little secrets of what our hearts desires. The most intense feeling of being here and now, of actually existing, is the sensation of being touched and oneself exploring the sensation of touching another human being. Yet this seems to still be charged with the fear of true intimacy in our time and culture. Sexuality is being heavily commodified and our most inner longings often becomes reduced to genital contact where orgasm is the goal and ego leads the way, assuming the shapes of the illusional characters we try or want to become. As for myself, the sensual, erotic and sexual can never be about replacing emotions, inflating a fragile ego or hiding the heart from the suffering that occasionally rears it’s inevitable ugly head as life flashes slowly by. I need and want intimacy, trust and and the bond cultivated between two people in love.
Loving another person, as well as your own Self, is a game full of risk. The imminent and ever present danger of experiencing heartbreak and loss. The fear of opening up and letting the robes fall from your shoulders, exposing the flesh and bone of your weak and fragile self. Still, the rewards of daring to love far exceeds these phantasms of vulnerability and ghosts of imagination. The daring leap, the exposed chest, the defenseless neck….. What is there to lose but nothing at all!