The horizon, that border that draws my gaze each time I visit the sea. For a long time, I was as overwhelmed as I was captivated by its monotony. Sometimes paralysed without inspiration in front of this steadfast line. And yet it is probably one of the most fitting subjects for me given my attraction to minimalism in nature. Over time, I’ve come to understand the interplay between the ocean and the clouds and how it alters colour, light, contrast and nuance. The alchemy between these elements can be as smooth as it is stormy.

Besides, what would the sky be without clouds? An immense and barren infinity, void, deserted, unwavering. Light stretches shapes, forming and sculpting the sky. They are the keys to understanding the tapestry being woven down below.
From the high bluffs of the Faroe Islands to the north of Norway, I have scanned this horizon, hunting for the subtle nuances revealed by low-hanging clouds, anticipating the crucial second when everything makes sense and becomes crystal clear. In these instants, I am not creating anything, everything I need is right before my eyes. I abandon the creative process, I let go, I live in the moment.
All I am doing is intensely receiving the image that has become a work of art.

Above and below, sky, earth, and water, in this vast graphic ensemble where lines become a blueprint, hues join and bloom into their truest expression.
I look past the linearity of the horizon, I allow myself to play with it, adding texture to render it more interesting, expressive, captivating. To make it the missing link between sky and sea, the voice of primal elements.