At the table that I sat fort he sketches of the paintings that I will make, I dreamt of a world made out of canvas and oil paint. And when I woke up, I was not painting anymore. Right after I got up, I bought massive wood cut by machines. Vorious wood; with smooth edges, thin, long, round. Then I used them in may installations by cutting them size by size. Then I made furniture, notebooks and stretcher frames out of this wood. After a while, spineless creatures, constantly reproducing, invaded everywhere, as if there was no end to it… They ate up all the wood and furniture. I picked up and dried all of them. After varnishing, they willingly took their place on canvases and surfaces as if they were living… They suited very well everywhere I placed them as if this place belonged to these creatures, as if the word was created for them.

After a while, I realized that I was sleeping and none of these happened in reality. I woke up. Everything had become painting; oil paint had pervaded them… I had even made my stretcher frames out of canvas and oil paint. The spineless had not eaten my works that I had made out of canvas since they were also oil paintings. The world didn’t belong to the spineless either. In fact, I couldn’t associate it with anyhing… Then I was possessed by suspicion; what if this was also a dream and paintings transformed into industrial products were used as furniture and the word was in the hands of the spineless?

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