“In Brooklyn, I see from the window of my studio the front of an old brick building bathed by the light of the sun, and a few formless shadows which, in an endless movement, creep in a row like animals on a thick horizontal line. Here, the roar of the subway or the incessant traffic of cars and pedestrians on the Brooklyn Bridge, projected by the sun, is right in front of me, through my window. In the same way, I remember listening, among lights and shadows, to the cacophony of animals during an overwhelming night in the middle of the jungle. My inspiration is, on one side, my experiences in my studio, on the other, a succession of memories of the jungle in Putumayo. It is this constant trail of memory and dreams passing by in my mind when I am in front of that other window: the empty canvas.”