I often wonder why the same scene can move one person to tears and leave another untouched. For me, seeing is never neutral — it changes with the state of mind. So I would say that my work sits at the intersection of perception and interpretation. In an age of image saturation, I’m drawn to what resists being captured, to the aura of place or a person: what cannot be photographed, only experienced.

Through drawing, painting and printmaking, I treat representation as a visual reading of place and identity. I often begin from objects that oscillate between recognition and dissolution — a courtyard at dusk, a semi-abandoned church, a face half-remembered in the crowd or a contemporary vision of a mythical creature. The aura matters more to me than the description; I seek to paint what remains when the image fades.

I choose materials like monoprint, watercolour and charcoal for their openness, the way they allow edges to stay soft, unfinished and closer to perception than depiction. I leave pauses and ambiguities so that looking can continue. Ultimately, I hope my works offer a space where perception itself becomes visible