Artworks

Youth is a myth. One lacks power, money. One badly wishes. Age is a counterbalance. You can have power, you can have money, even glory. And a story to tell.

A playful game again. Not a riddle. Blue Tucano is a fictional name for a night club, the colorful bird its neon sign. The City below us. Burning life. Nightlife.

A balcony on the sea. A nude woman leaning on the banister. A nice painting hanging, a table, a vase. A young coconut palm in a vase. A happy alligator

A meditation on the evoking expression, as in a story by Raymond Carver. The building on the left: apartments, people inside. Like accidentally peeking into other people’s lives, as if

A chemical blue equalizes surfaces and volumes. Some conversing characters are sketched. Nocturnal creatures, not necessarily human. The bright red stripe on the left could be neon light, could be

The model has a quizzical expression, her hands are set across a frame. Her hat is unusual, a French elegance. She appears sitting at a table, on a terrace overlooking

Flames burn on the left, as the flaming shi’ite invocation to Ali, cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad, for a request of strength. As in all Zalmoxis’s ambiguities, here

The winged lion. The gondola. These two subjects obviously remind us of Venice. The faraway City, a theme by itself, is not Venice at all, however. The blue/violet darkness, the

Francis Bacon never used these lights and colors, and almost never painted female nudes. We see her, blonde, almost sexy but jaded, slumped on Mackintosh’s willow chair. She is covered

This is the subject of a world famous engraving. And this painting could be an almost literal conversion in a colorful image of the black and white original work. But

Nightlife. The City not so far away. Cruising bikers, whores, transvestites and their tricks. Regular johns, peepers, pushers. The lights of the nights, all those temporary goddesses. A warm starless

This painting is named after Michail Bulgakov’s homonymous novel. Kiev, after the fall of the Empire, after the uprising and the October Revolution. Russia, the Great Civil War. Warlords, illusions,

Henry Matisse, quotation marks included. We are the post-post. We are pulverized. Far beyond liquid. “When you can’t be Shakespeare, when you can’t be Joyce, what is left instead?”, Lou

An ice blue vest, the long blond hair. The tall figure holds a golden arrow. His name is Abaris , the magician . Apollo’s priest and disciple. He came to

Southern France, a late afternoon. A village perched over the immensity of the sea. The only one Café has a terrace. Sun is slowly declining, light is softer now. She

She is black. She is stunning. She’s been dancing. The King is charmed, you ‘ll get whatever you want, he proclaims, and he can’t recant his regal word . She

A rowdy jazz club, south LA. The 50s. Wild sounds. Booze. Black girls dancing. White men watching, smoking, drinking. spending money Black men around the building, access denied them. The

There is no lust, just peace. A maternal female, her gaze lost in the distance above the waves. A Naiad, her spring pouring fresh water under her body. A lazy

In his novel On the Mable Cliffs (1939), the German writer Ernst Jünger used this term to indicate a fictional volunteer army, in which the protagonist had taken part. Ernst

We met this man before. So, the story now is all about his astrakhan ushanka: red and orange on dark blue and deep purple. About his cold steel gaze. And