I’m a born artist.
I draw and paint pictures and write stories.
I have an arts degree, and I’m a writer and an artist who is always thinking and philosophising. My hand has become an instrument for showing others a dimension it has access to.
The more my self has formed and, like a sponge, absorbed cultural steams, the more my personal vision and the way of expressing myself have evolved and refined over the years. After seeking out my own way of expressing my art, imitating other artists’ art style, and copying other artists’ works, my own unique art style emerged with quite startling clarity; an expert eye can recognise my works right away based on my art style, even without taking a peek at my signature.
I believe in talent, equality, freedom of choice, and the liberating power of truth and autonomy.
I cut out a bit of real life and depict it along with illusion, rationality and abstract imagination, while seeking colours, shapes and human truths, just as in life.
I carry my message, through fresh and rich colours, unto people’s hearts. The shapes in my pictures are closed, the lines are sandpapered, and in case they are not aggressively and acrobatically making love, they’re wordlessly embracing. Nothing is without meaning, I wander among symbols, and my brush strokes are ambiguous and have double senses. Openness is the only constant I have and the lens through which I look at and love the world.
I softly accentuate tensions of everyday scenes to defuse them with humour.
I ask questions and listen to answers while drawing.
Whenever you look at one of my paintings, it is not important who I am, where I came from, and where I’m going; all that really matters is what you’re thinking of yourself in that very moment.
To what extent can you be objective in observing others? How reliable could your opinions be about people with whom you’ve been spending decade after decade? You can never be sure what others hide behind their smile. You know no more of the humanity than what you’ve learned by observing and experimenting on yourself. This is the only real fundamental knowledge, which can only be refined, supplemented and confirmed by experience through the shock of others’ alien examples. This is external experience—experience concerning others.