✶ MANIFESTO OF THE BESTIARY OF INNER LIGHT ✶

For the bodies that dream, for the eyes that burn, for the soul that mutates

I. FIRST FLAME: WHAT I SEE IS NOT WHAT IS

My art does not seek to represent the world, but to unearth it .
What is visible is barely a skin. I paint what crawls underneath ,
what looks at us from the other side of the eye,
that which has no name but lives.

II. EVERYTHING LIVING MUTATES

Every figure that is born in my work is in transit:
from human to animal, from shadow to star, from wound to crown.
There is no stable form.
The lines tremble, the mouths are wings,
bodies are spilling out because the truth is not solid .

III. CRYING IS A WAY OF LOOKING

The eye that weeps in my beasts is sacred:
He does not cry out of sadness, but out of revelation.
It is an eye that has seen too much.
That bleeds light.
That opens up to absorb the world without filters or dogmas.

IV. MYTHOLOGY IS NOT DEAD

I don't narrate ancient myths.
I devour them. I transform them. I remake them with my guts.
Leda, Apollo, the horsemen, the abductions:
They are new masks for the same eternal enigmas:
desire, death, power, ecstasy,
the creature that we are inside.

V. I DON'T BELIEVE IN CLEAN BEAUTY

Beauty is in the unstable.
In the cry that is not heard.
In the flower that has a tooth.
My colors do not seek to calm: they seek to awaken .
Because waking up hurts.

VI. THE DARKNESS SHINES

In the third vision, in the descent into the abyss,
I discover that true light is born from within the shadow.
Art is not escape, it is an initiatory descent .
And he who goes down, if he does not break, returns crowned with himself .

VII. THE BODY IS A SURREAL TEMPLE

Animal body, plant body, divinity body.
The body in my art is magical territory,
neither binary nor domesticated .
It is an altar, it is a portal, it is a secret language.
There visions occur. There metamorphosis creeps.

VIII. TO PAINT IS TO SUMMON

Each work is a spell.
A syncretic ceremony between the archaic and the current.
I paint to summon the viewer to his own mutant mirror.
To tell him:

You are also a beast.
You also have a flower in your skull.
You too can see with the eye that cries.

IX. THE INTERNAL LIGHT DOES NOT ASK FOR PERMISSION

I am not a painter of beauty.
I am a medium of what wants to manifest.
My bestiary is a mirror for wild souls.
My art, an altar for what doesn't fit.
My mission: to set fire to the visible to reveal the essential.