2004-2006 – Individual work
The Death of Artists
How many times must I shake my bauble and bells.
And kiss your low forehead, dismal caricature?
To strike the target of mystic nature,
How many javelins must I waste, O my quiver?
We shall wear out our souls in subtle schemes.
And we shall demolish many an armature.
Before contemplating the glorious Creature
For whom a tormenting desire makes our hearts grieve!.
Have but one hope, bizarre and somber Capitol!
It is that Death, soaring like a new sun,
Will bring to bloom the flowers of their brains!
Charles Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil
Translation: William Aggeler