A second entry under the same name would be enough for some to prove that I might not know what I am doing. While it might be true in some respects, in others it certainly is not.
I do know, most of the time, what I am doing. Yet, there are moments, when I allow myself to be surprised by what stands in front of me, even if it certainly stems from my own creativity, be it called mind, or hand skillfulness. The reason I am mesmerised by my own work might, as a matter of fact, not be the same as what leaves you baffled by what I do, that is if that really happens.
The problem I have is that, in spite of a perceived diversity of means I employ in my work, I cannot overlook a certain coherence, not of the message I atempt to convey through my work, but of the fact I am always in search of a meaning in what I do, a meaning which is indeed, findable in even my most humble achievement.
That meaning, once stated, frugally, through a title, or much more elaborated, through an article such as the one I'm writing right now, sort of metamorphoses my painting in an illustration, which would be true, if only I would be aware of the said meaning, or idea, at the beginning of my work. In fact things happen the other way arround. I, myself, have to discover, in the middle of the creative endeavour, or after the work is finished, what is the painting, drawing, animation, about. It is like when you write poetry letting yourself inspired by some work of art, or beautiful scenery you find in nature.
That is why, sometimes, I write some words about what I did, whether in the form of verses or not. Yet, the thing that should be clear is that, most of the time, at the beginning of what I do I am not fully aware of what would my work mean, linguistically, even if I have a more or less clearer image of how it should look.
Therefore I should not be confounded with an ilustrator. Most certainly, I am not one. That is why I do not usually work for an employer. My work has a message, sometimes a very sound one, as it appears to anyone who is willing to read the names I usually give to my works, but that message comes, most of the time, from a source which is not known to me at the moment I start working.
It might seem weird, but what is even weirder is the fact that, more than once, i found imagistic or textual refrences in my work, to images or literature I was never in contact with, or, at least, I wasn't aware of knowing about, before the moment of making the respective work. That being said, a certain level of intertextuality entailed by the situation above could, in fact, show that both my work and the works I found similarities with, in the aftermath of the creative process, might point out to the same situation which shouldn't necessarly be artefactual, but also behavioural. What we share is not necessarly the same source of inspiration, but a similar creative processing of outer reality inside of our mind, a similar sense of perception and similar purpose in interpreting. I wouldn't call them affinities.
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