At a certain point, I felt time slipping away—as if my life was nearing its end. The pain of that realisation was so intense that it forced me to wake up.
Since my teenage years, to deal with an uneasy childhood, I lived like a rock star, chasing intensity until everything had to change. Instead of searching for fulfilment outside myself, I turned inward, reshaping my thoughts, my personality and the world around me.
Everything is in flux. Even the same object appears different depending on our emotional state when we observe it. And yet, art has the power to bridge time and space—like telepathy, two minds sharing the same thought, gazing at the same piece in different moments, on opposite sides of the world.
In my sculptures, created with industrial materials, I juxtapose decay and renewal. I let iron and copper powders corrode, creating rich, rusty textures—an ode to time’s relentless passage. And against this, I introduce mossy, vibrant, almost otherworldly surfaces, like the soft fuzz of a living organism reclaiming space. My work is a meditation on the balance between disintegration and rebirth, a reminder that even in decay, something new is always emerging.
The concept of infinity has always appeared in my work. Though we may never fully grasp it, what if we lived as though we were limitless? Wouldn’t life feel lighter?
