About
On Becoming an Artist
I did not become an artist by decision, but by revelation.
It happened during a journey through India, in the Himalayas, when the very way I perceived the world changed. Objects ceased to be merely objects — I began to see them as creation. In that moment, I first understood art not as an activity, but as a state of vision.
My first lesson in painting lasted seven minutes.
A single sweep of the palette knife, the first stroke of black paint on a white canvas — and within that gesture, understanding occurred. Not rational, but whole: a moment when knowledge is not explained, but grasped all at once.
Since then, I paint.
I do not seek inspiration, nor do I wait for it to arrive. I wait for the possibility of being alone with the canvas. Painting, for me, is not an act of expression, but an act of presence — where form is born from silence, and gesture precedes thought.
My abstract works describe nature as I perceive it: not as landscape, but as process. The layered structure of the paintings reflects the parallel nature of time — the coexistence of past, present, and potential within a single visual field.
Painting, for me, is not a depiction of the world, but a way of breathing with it.
The Journey
From childhood, I grew up with heightened sensitivity.
I perceived the moods of people — felt their attitudes toward others, their sincerity and their deception.
Their prejudices. Their false judgments. Their pain and their joy.
For a long time, it felt like a curse.
Seeing too much.
Feeling too sharply.
I did not understand why this was given to me.
With time, when I began to paint, a different understanding emerged.
What I once considered a weakness became the greatest gift of my life.
Not as a skill.
Not as a choice.
But as a way of being in the world.
And in that — I have been truly fortunate.
My Art
While studying artists at the university’s faculty of architecture — already after the beginning of my own artistic practice — I noticed a recurring pattern.
Layering was often used as a way to conceal images that frightened the artists themselves.
What was perceived as inauspicious was hidden inward.
It became clear to me that another approach was possible.
Not to conceal, but to bring to the foreground.
Not to suppress, but to clarify.
Not to hide the image, but to allow it to exist.
Thus, the core idea of my art was formed —
a dialogue with the immaterial world of ideas.
In my works, I leave imprints of a space
in which time does not exist.
Process
I do not need to be understood.
That is not why I am here.
The moment art begins to be explained in detail and shown how it is created, it ceases to be art and becomes craft.
The mystery disappears.
The viewer’s task is not to rationalize.
Not to analyze.
Not to follow the process.
The viewer’s task is to look and to feel.
I never show or document my working process — neither on video nor in photographs.
The process distracts from the experience of the work itself.
It draws attention away from what truly matters.
This mystery must remain with me.
Behind the scenes.
Out of frame.