
My latest works grow from close looking, from listening, and from the quiet dialogue between what surrounds me and what remains within me.
As an artist, I have learned to trust my ability to look and to feel deeply. I respond to what I see, hear, sense, and remember. These impressions become the starting point for my work. They are not only observations, but also traces — of places, moments, atmospheres, and inner landscapes. In this way, memory becomes a material of its own.

My Flowerworks grow from close looking and quiet attention. They begin with the fragile elegance of petals, stems, and leaves, but they are never only about flowers. They are about rhythm, movement, light, and the way nature holds both delicacy and strength at once.

In 2020, I began teaching ecological garden design, a shift that changed not only the rhythm of my work but also the way I looked at the world. Where I had once been drawn outward toward the broader landscape, I found myself turning inward, learning to observe more closely the quiet life within a small patch of ground. My attention moved from the wide horizon to the intimacy of a square meter, where soil, roots, leaves, insects, light, and time reveal their own subtle composition.

Between 2016 and 2020, my work focused on the relationship between space and memory across different disciplines. During this period, I explored how places are experienced, remembered, and transformed through time, translating these impressions into drawings, paintings, mixed media works, and other forms of visual expression.

My background in architecture taught me to think in terms of structure, proportion and the way people move through space. Plans, sections and façades were my first “compositions”: lines, grids and voids organizing how a space is experienced. In my later artistic practice, these architectural principles did not disappear; they were transformed.
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