Before any artistic process, there is an excitement. I always forbade myself to think about it, or to put words on it. Indeed I avoid to give a sense to my plastic creation, to leave the work himself revealed its own sense.
I use this ignorance as a motor somehow.
Over time I notice my sentimentality for the memory of things and how we capture those things in time.
After many years, I know where I am as an artist, in my practice, which is the worst of things, I suppose.