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Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it, because no one else will.


I come from a city full of chaos, where I was never meant to be. Yet it runs through my veins every single day. It is a place full of noise that made me run away to Italy and Spain to discover the part of me that creates. My body grows with my art, and impacts the constant change in my medium. Materials and tools are non important: it is the scar of love or wisdom; the yearning and learning of the human condition in each work of art that makes it become its authentic self.


Art is my gift to nature.  It represents the journey of becoming my own world, and the way I see this earth, our home. Time is my obsession.  With every piece of work a part of my heart opens, and they show my eyes what is important, and it becomes my story.


I paint what I don’t understand, what I love, what I hope, what I want. I paint my breath and animals.

I used to paint with my hands, now I paint with my heart.


They are stories of time that become alive through the canvas. Injustice and the magical. Milky Way secrets available only to the untrained eye.  Art teaches me how to think, and feel.  To ignore the unimportant. It is love, the biggest gift. I have often thought the colors I use are unconscious remnants of my father’s ottoman roots. Yet, the predominant use of black and white in my work is unavoidable. It exists through  the moment of life I was born in, the books of my childhood where Kafka and Camus collide, and our complex reality. There are infinite tones of grey that bring life and truth to the reality of how things work. Physical components and repurposed materials introduce the idea of the changing world we live in and the ephemerality of it all.


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