Atila Schroeder.com

When I find myself in front of a white stretched canvas, a feeling often comes over me that that piece of whiteness represents the only dimension and space where I can really be free….

Sometimes, I am capable of making subtle, meticulous paintbrush marks to express the inexpressible, something so abstract that poach into metaphysical. Again sometimes, by daring and impudent swings of the arm I simply drum on the canvas, and this is where a magic ritual begins, where I stop being myself and I become a fine gold thread, a living connection between the paint and the canvas.

To express all the complexity and power of what I NEED to tell, I always have this irresistible urge to capture time, but I almost never succeed.

My paintings are... In fact, I don’t know what they are... Are they contemporary art..? Modern art..? Are they only art...? I don’t know... They simply happen… And I must believe they are true, and I am sure that they reflect a powerful and unstoppable need for painting.

I’ll leave further interpretation to whoever finds pleasure in it.