I'm drawn to the moment when identity begins to dissolve, or perhaps reveal itself through a protective mask. When the self loses its edges and becomes a gesture, a posture, a glance turned away.

To me, the body is both physical form and a vessel for inner drama, memory, and identity — woven from what has been lived, longed for, or needed.

What we call “I” is often just a patchwork of other people’s touch, expectations, and wounds.

The figures in my work are not characters — they are states.

The figure often distorts, loses its face, yet retains a kind of presence — decorative, striking, influential.

It speaks in silence — through its posture, its containment, the space it inhabits.

These are not depictions of reality. They are dreamlike spaces — surreal, symbolic, psychologically charged.

I move away from realism toward metaphor, toward expressive composition: geometry, voids, silhouettes, spaces without shadows.

Colors, silhouettes and recognizable objects carry the emotional weight.

I lean into ambiguity — inviting interpretation, both for the viewer and for myself.

Many of my works emerge from a liminal place — half-asleep, through accidental gestures, unfiltered gestures.

I often don’t plan — I let the painting appear. Later, I return with my eye to find those rare fragments worth keeping, cutting away the excess and refining what remains.

I try to leave only what feels essential — the clearest expression of what needs to be said, without saying too much.