For me, the radical break from the seemingly “secure” was not a leap into uncertainty but a liberation. By dedicating myself to art, I began to reshape not only the world around me but also myself. My works are not answers – they are questions. Questions that provoke. Questions that reflect. Questions you must ask yourself.

In my ceramic pieces, you encounter clay in its most primal form. It is wild, malleable, alive. What emerges is not a product but a process – an organic structure that seduces your eyes and makes your hands yearn to touch it. What do you see? A figure, an emotion, a hint? No idea? Perhaps you see yourself in it, or something you’ve long forgotten. Black on the outside, gold on the inside!

The steel I work with tells a different story. It is hard, unyielding, a material that resists – like the world we live in. Yet within its edges and curves lies movement, lightness, an unexpected softness, and even vulnerability. Isn’t this a reflection of our existence? Hard on the outside, fragile within.

And then there’s digital art – a medium often dismissed as cold and soulless. But I use it to prove the opposite. With every stroke on the screen, something emerges that dissolves the boundaries between human and machine, tradition and modernity, reality and illusion. It is a play with time, an attempt to make the intangible tangible.

Acrylic and oil painting, for me, is like a conversation with time. Acrylic – fast, impatient, pulsating – demands decisions in the moment. Oil, on the other hand, requires patience, devotion, and a willingness to think in layers. Both techniques are a play of opposites, like light and shadow, order and chaos, harmony and rupture. My canvases tell stories that often lack heroes but ask questions. Every stroke of the squeegee is both conflict and reconciliation. The colors – sometimes wild and turbulent, sometimes quiet and introspective – are like emotions we often dare not express.

My art is not a commodity. It challenges you. It asks why you do what you do. It questions your truths and invites you to think anew. Why do we follow the same patterns that repeatedly destroy us? Why do we accept the obvious without questioning it?

Perhaps you’ll lose yourself in my works. Perhaps you won’t understand them. Perhaps you’ll feel anger; perhaps you’ll cry. But one thing I promise you: you won’t remain indifferent.

In the end, it’s not my art that speaks. It’s you.