Reflections in the water. Mild mornings. Postcards from Nepal. Tiles. Twisting roots. Clouds forming streams. Rain soaking everything. Dreams that stir. Candles lighting a path. Footsteps in the snow. None of this has any meaning or influence on my work.

Until it passes through the hands of an artist. Then, everything makes sense to me. And it is capable of filling everything. Reflections in the water. Mild mornings. Postcards, tiles with roots reflecting clouds soaking dreams lit by candles in the snow.

My work draws from many cultural sources: art in its various forms, painting, sculpture, photography, film, and literature. The idea of ​​art as an inevitable consequence of other works and artistic creations, of other artists. And yet, trying to remove any personal trace from the execution. What is a book like that talks about a movie that is based on another book?