I was born in 1967, in a house full of paper, paints, plaster, and plasticine clay, and with these materials, before my eyes, images were created, which transformed day by day and were brought to life. My Dad was a sculptor, with his own distinctive individual world, and my brother and I both breathed this air.
Maybe it's for this reason that I'm consumed with an interest in the plasticity of forms, the fullness of their color, and the air and the space that surrounds them and blows life into every stroke.
There is great happiness when, in addition to experiencing everyday life, you are given the opportunity to live one more life, to immerse yourself in it, and spend every minute searching, discovering.
Needless to say, that first of all it's the process that is important that matters; as if you are following a wave in a vast sea, coming both across and up against the unexpected, with only you to decide when to come ashore. Then you sit, and observe, and realize that two parallel lives merged and accumulated in one space; It happens only when you are sincere - painting does not lie.