I’ve been painting since before I could really speak, so for me, art has never been separate from life - it’s how I think, feel, and make sense of everything.

 

When I paint, sculpt, or work digitally, it feels like I’m translating something from the space between memory, dreams, and myth - places I can only reach through colour, texture, movement, and sound.

 

to abstraction, to those spontaneous, ephemeral shapes that feel ancient - like they’ve always been there, waiting. Sometimes they form stories or recognisable figures, like when we see creatures in clouds or constellations in the dark.

 

I don’t try to recreate the past - I want to break it open, reimagine it, and let something unfamiliar and alive grow through. Lately, I’ve started playing my paintings like instruments - what I call soundpaintings.

 

They’re a way of giving voice to what’s hidden in the work, to let it breathe and vibrate. The textures and strokes become sound, and suddenly the piece isn’t just visual - it’s resonating with something beyond me. Like the artwork itself is trying to speak in its own language, connecting the human and the universe.

 

My work isn’t really about explaining - it’s about feeling. Sometimes it’s messy, raw, surreal. But underneath it all, there’s always a kind of thread, like a silent story that doesn’t need words. I’m looking for that moment when something feels both familiar and unknown - like a part of you you didn’t realise was sleeping, suddenly waking up.