My artistic journey began in early childhood, before I even entered school, at my mother’s dressing table — my first studio. It was there that I first experienced the quiet magic of balance: the soft glide of lipstick over the rough grain of wood, the shimmer of color, and the reflection of a mysterious woman who seemed to carry the silent weight of countless secrets.
For years, I searched for her again — that woman of color and silence — through countless portraits, across cultures and identities, in styles from realism to surrealism, and in media as diverse as charcoal, oil paint, sand sculptures, and the fogged glass of a winter window. It was never about the medium; it was always about the quest.
Around 2020, this search evolved. My figurative realism gave way to surreal frames that narrated my inner states. Oil paint became my constant companion — a continuation of that early exploration of softness meeting roughness, of finding balance between contrasts.
In recent years (since 2022), my work has shifted once again, gravitating toward simpler materials like ballpoint pen on kraft paper. These works lean into symbolism and mandala-like structures. I begin each piece spontaneously, drawing from a single central point within a circle, letting intricate forms and symbols grow outward in dense interwoven patterns. When a drawing resonates as particularly personal or familiar, I translate it into oil on canvas.
This body of work has become a collection of mandalas titled Anima Mundi (the soul of the world). The choice of light, simple materials allows for speed and flow — essential, as the work is improvised and often grows into highly complex forms. Their simplicity invites the viewer’s eye and mind to rest even as they navigate the intricacy.
Whether working with ballpoint on paper or oil on canvas, two forces shape my process:
Releasing an inner core of creativity and imagery
Seeking harmony between opposites — heavy and light, simple and complex, soft and rough.
In the paper works, simple materials hold intricate patterns; on canvas, heavier materials balance more minimal designs. This pursuit of equilibrium is the thread that ties my practice together.
To me, these circles are like placing the cosmos under a microscope — sometimes a personal universe, sometimes a collective one. Within them, the “woman” is not merely a physical figure but the archetypal creative force of nature, of birth and becoming.
My invitation to the viewer is to see her not only in the painted forms, but also in the embroidered threads of a cushion, in temple tiles, in the veins of leaves, in the core of a cherry, and in the silences we often avoid.