For more than thirty years now, I’ve been painting nudes, beautiful women, marvellous landscapes.

No, I’m not fed up with it. On the contrary. The older I get, the more incomprehensible their beauty becomes, the deeper the rapture cuts into my limbs.

Women are landscapes, life, light, perfume, music, prose and poetry. Sometimes they become war and pain, despair, gloom and death…

I love them all for a different reason. They colour my life, they drive me onwards. It’s an absolute feast when they come to sit for me. I love to spoil them : a cup of coffee, a piece of cake, a glass of wine, a nice meal, a ride on my motor cycle, a drink on a terrace… I’m incredibly in love with them, I barely dare to touch them ; here and there a slight kiss, a warm cuddle. I’m still a shy somewhat uncertain adolescent.

I’m always surprised that they are prepared to inspire my breath with there immeasurable beauty. Yes, sometimes I have to swallow hard at the sight of their seductive beauty. And yes, then I just swallow… I wish I were twenty years younger, but at that time I couldn’t paint as I do today.

Their names are Maai, Shaerin, Soetkin, Cindy, Liesbeth, Lieke, Petra, Ingeborg, Marjolein, Sarah, Evelien, Els, Yasmina, Oya, Lisa, Martine, Susan, Anta, Hilde, Pia, Tine, Kris, Griet, Valerie, Monique, Annemie, Katrien, Lieve, Alexandra, Marie-Pierre, Nathalie, … Sorry for those I forgot , but considerable volumes of wine have clouded my brain …

The following words belong to JJ Cale : ' I am not a homeless man'. Painting is my home. I feel secure there.
For it remains a beautiful thing to try, in all our pure nakedness, to give the meaning of life a nudge in the right direction.