Whoever stops to look at a beautiful panorama calculates two things in his or her head: The first allows the viewer to take in the entire landscape as one complete vision, the second allows the viewer to study the details that make up the whole. Since I am fixated by landscape paintings, I form the same calculations in my head. However, I paint my first impressions of the landscape recording the feelings that overwhelm me at first sight. The close-up details of the landscape aren't as important as the overall impression that I receive from the whole.
My paintings are characterized by their exaggerated landscape format, whereby the length is much longer than the height. I paint large-scale works because I want the viewer to be enveloped by the painting and to be able to "enter" into it.
I recently moved to Connecticut where I am surprised to be surrounded by an immense and luminous sky that touches the horizon in far off places, without the interference of hills. I'm awed by the coast, where the land and water unexpectedly flow directly into the sky. Consequently, my paintings reflect my search for the representation of depth in these new horizons.