Many years ago, one of the women I have admired and loved the most, my grandmother, gave me a tablecloth as a present. It was made of white candid cotton, very pleasant at the touch and beautifully embroidered. I loved it at first sight. Thus, I used it, once in Brussels, on the occasion of special dinners with friends.
Many years have passed and many things have changed. The spots of red wine, coffee and food have been populating the candid tablecloth leaving as a trace the good memories of joyful dinners and lunches with my dearest ones.
My grandmother is not there anymore but the tablecloth still is.
Many of the things I paint come from the recollection of the moments spent with her when I was a kid. I have then decided to keep that old and dirty tablecloth and use it while painting as a way of keeping grandma close to me. She is the only one witnessing the creative process behind my artworks, from beginning to end. She protects my paintings from the direct Sun light before they are sealed, she absorbs the excess of the pigments I apply and the drops of water leaking from my brushes. She is with me anytime.