Thorns make me scream

This painting began with a still from a pornographic film.

I was searching for something that rarely survives in those images, a trace of real emotion, a moment where the act dissolved and something human appeared.

For years, the painting remained only that image. It felt incomplete, though I couldn’t immediately explain why.

The rose stem came later. Its thorns were necessary.

I have always been drawn to the contradiction roses hold, softness protected by sharpness. Once the thorns entered the composition, the image found its tension.

Desire remained, but it was no longer simple.