I came across Tiny by chance, one evening. It was one of these encounters which make you feel you are lucky. I met all sorts of folks! they were not the talkative kind. But what stories!

  Tales without words made of clay, water and warmth. It came to my mind that Tiny was part of a large family which had existed in all times and all over the world. I heard of a cousin from New-Guinea, who in prehistory, sculpts a zoomorphe form in stone. A story which unwinds whithout ever repeating itself.

  If Art is abstraction, I must admit, that with Tiny abstraction is not etheral, it is made out of flesh, blood and sometimes good jokes.