My works arise from a persistent, diffuse image that returns again and again in different forms—strange, like the moment just before sleep.

I try to capture it, and it is sensation that serves as the bridge.
I work without sketches; I know how a piece begins, but not how it will end.

The work takes shape following the physical principle of resonance: materials and sensations that share a vibrational frequency come into sync. Often, conventional materials are not enough—it’s gold leaf, wax, marble dust, or asphalt that respond.

The body perceives it as a physical, almost acoustic response. Creating then becomes a nearly musical experience, a process of tuning—some things are removed, others remain, and some, like faces, almost always emerge.

Once finished, they are not closed or explicit images. I like to think of them as enigmas offered to curious eyes—to seekers who, in their own silence, find the deeper meaning of what is there, without fear of their inner world or dependence on another’s interpretation.
That is where the infinite potential of an image resides.