The Devil, the detail – our soul.

In Inspiration, Passion

Curious to find out. Passion for authenticity. Drunk on life. I am, flavour in the soul.


Of the earth a passage passionately rejected. Entirely blind to the contemporary – obsessed with the eternal. It’s a constant search for the things that makes your heart beat faster, your shoulders tense up in anticipation your lips to form a smile. Simple, unique and relevant. Repeating the process, maintaining the heritage.

Rain on the window, northern wind through the crack in the door. Finger gloves, sharp metal knife, following the pattern drawn from memory. The object takes shape; the two-dimensional is brought to life. Where there was once nothing there is purpose. No detail above another, all is important, not a detail is spared the razor sharp eye of a long-lived life in the stone walled factory.
Butterfly takes off, sun hits the corner of the small east-facing window. Fresh coffee boiling the soft sound of the last vapor as it pushes through the grounded coffee beans. Workshop filled with shattered tones of wellness. Mouth full of the most precious brew known to mankind, a smooth movement of the feet across the concrete floor.
Man in the mirror on the small transistor radio and another sheet of red coloured leather on the table.
Tender fingers dance, dancing with the most beautiful and precious partner. Sensing the texture searching for its strength its weakest most delicate point. Eyes closed, a breath, complete focus. Chalk drawn with the conviction of the devil, released from its shackles, free to roam.

Underground, browsing for a treat. A complete impression takes an eternity to find. An eternity to look for perfection. Genuine, honest and original is the pray. Hunt is on.
They dance and all things around them blend to a fog. The focus is here now, nothing but the line matters. Posture is exquisite. The pattern emerges.
The hunter found its pray, the vision is locked. Blood red. Pursuit. Persistence. Transformed from a vision, temptation has won its last hope – a fast kill. To own, to feast.
A final touch, a kiss of perfection wrapped in silk. It’s a love affair completed.
Produced from the simple recipe to work, to last an eternity – to satisfy you.