From the very beginning, my early‐lived moments imprinted in
me an intense sensitivity to human features; I saw in the face a
hidden scar bearing histories of silence, brokenness, and longing.
Thus, portraiture became my primary language, the closest
means to understanding both the world and myself.
I approach faces as beings suspended between fading and
remaining, not as documentation of specific individuals’ features,
but as an act of inner restoration. My figures spring from deep
personal memory; from the face of a child who never grew up,
and from disfigured faces that linger in my consciousness like
distant echoes. Through painting, I seek to restore some peace to
them, to beautify memory not out of denial, but through
reconciliation.
For this reason, my figures are deliberately stripped of place and
time. What interests me is not humanity as it once was, but as it
continues to exist within memory: a fragile sensation, a trace
suspended in an endless void. The faces in my paintings belong to
no singular narrative, but to human experience in its most
vulnerable and authentic state. Painting becomes a philosophical
attempt to understand what remains of us after pain, and how
memory, despite its distortions, may transform into a space of
peace rather than a prison of the past.
I dream, and dream, and dream of peace.
I dream that one day this eternal struggle in my overgrown head
and distorted memory will cease, and that I may return to the
child who never fully grew up — to begin again, in peace