I’ve been residing in Japan for more than a month now for an art residency, and I am very much influenced by the kyara, the cuteness of everything around me, but also the quiet city life of small-town Okazaki (Aichi). My new works are reflecting that in their form.

I’m cursed with envy. I enjoy sharing successes with my peers; however, I also see some people’s achievements as an incentive to try harder (or die tryin’).

Parasocial relationships and the theme of the “Beautiful Fighting Girl” have been my favourite wells to draw from for a number of years now.

I’ve grown to appreciate the elderly artists from my hometown. Despite not being very well known, they’ve been constant in their craft, and that’s important.

I love Zurich. It’s pretty snob, but the indie art scene is definitely interesting. I’d move there if I had the financial means to do so.

Don’t get me wrong, I like living in Neuchâtel, but it’s barely a city.

In reality, I hope that by painting what interests me, the viewer can sense my passion and perhaps become attracted to, or weirded out by, my choice of subjects. Let’s analyse the example of my latest Silence Suzuka portrait: I painted her big, way bigger than she should be, both in height and in… corporature. I want the public to feel her presence, to feel a little funny inside.

I used to be intimidated by conceptual art. Feeling belittled by pretentious artists and know-it-all curators is a feeling no one wants to experience, yet that’s what happens, since artists live in their own bubble (and so do I!). My professors changed that by gradually explaining the various connections between the art world, history, and social practices. It kind of makes sense now.

If people wanted to get it, they could. But it’s much easier to laugh at the banana taped to the wall, isn’t it?

The public is generally intimidated by a lack of knowledge, and it fosters a hostile environment between visual artists and their target audience.

My course director during my Master’s told me I should probably stop painting because she couldn’t see what I wanted to communicate in my work. I kept painting. But I also got better at talking. So… I won?

Being commissioned for a public art project, especially a permanent one. I’m aware that art in public spaces often has a bad reputation—shallow or overly complex, alienating, and a driver of gentrification—but there are plenty of good examples that don’t boil down to yassified hostile architecture. I haven’t come up with a good enough idea yet; I trust the stars will eventually align.

That I was (and am) somewhat awkward, and that I need to try extra hard to mask it.

I got fairly late into the dating game, mostly because I was unable to relate to people. There were some fundamental issues at my core that I had to address. Meeting the right people is a godsend.

Practical thinking. In the art field it’s important to be a bricklayer, an entrepreneur, and a PR agent, all in one.

While in school, a collector in Switzerland told me he liked a painting of a train I had just finished and asked me to bring it to his house. He hung it upside down and gave me a good amount of money. Also, I rode the train back home; I think that specific locomotive was named after Harald Szeemann.

I listen to all sorts of roleplays, sometimes even the unhealthiest ones. I’m by no means a lonely person; nevertheless, curiosity gets the better of me. There’s an inescapable charm to suspending my disbelief for a brief time and letting a pair of hands drift me away. Crafting videos are also really good. It’s mostly artificial, but they scratch a hard-to-reach itch.

My friends César and Tudor have always been there since we graduated together. We work, apply to grants, and show together in a fluid manner. General Æsthetics was the title of our first show in an offspace called Smallville, and I’m happy that, two years later—this October—we’ll be showing again at the Art Center of Neuchâtel (CAN)!