My first words as a teacher warned my students that iconology is not the study of images but of invisible signs nestling in the secrecy of images. Poetry is only ever expressed in the interval between words. Elsewhere (and so close), science uses figures and perspectives, those distances, to adjust reason and meanings to sidereal giddiness. Finding: to try to flush out the really illegible, the best language is skewed, a telling trompe-l’oeil, on which all hardy arrows break before reaching their target. Hence: the invisible is naturally more accurate than the visible as it ignores omnipotent appearance. Thus research moves into the fault, not in the supposed harmony of the spheres but in the shadow and echoes of an invisible universe much larger than the visible and yet ours – another matter, lying low inside and outside deceptive shared reality.

My black inks on white try to surprise the trace of invisible vibrations and structures in the dimension of the visible. Asceticism and epiphany of the sketch. The sleepwalking line discovers an abstract, humble and sensitive form, both writing and bridge between interior and stellar spaces. The being’s cavern lives in the great depths. Of the psyche as well as in universal abysses. Testimony of the eye at its tip: this side of or beyond the eye are here. There is no intellectual and sensory frontier between a body and the spatial and temporal stretch, between the interior and exterior of the living. The enigma of thought offers the veracity of an imprint added to the mystery of the All. Science and art come together in this paradox.