Ich

I grew up in a theocratic-dictatorial regime, shaped by the contradictions between the social mask and the private sphere, as well as by the discrepancy between external and internal identity.

The "self" doesn't emerge as a stable entity, but rather as a movement: between obedience and refusal, between conformity and rebellion. It is less a self than a mechanism that reacts to rules—by executing or subverting them.

The moment dependency is recognized as such is not a moment of liberation, but a rupture. From there, a search begins: for escape routes, for shifts, for other forms of existence. This movement is not a clear line, but a constant deviation.
My work revolves around this unstable center. Self-portraits appear again and again—not as representations, but rather as a means of preserving traces against oblivion. For me, painting, drawing, and printmaking are states of being: places where time condenses and thought becomes visible. The mirror reappears in my work, but not as an instrument of self-affirmation. It creates distance. He multiplies. He shifts. What becomes visible is never identical to what is.
I often work with installations, with things that seemingly no longer want anything: leftover objects, discarded materials, carriers of time. They don't speak, but they store. I'm interested in what happens when you listen to them. Just as important as the work itself is the space in which it takes place. I seek out locations that are already charged—with history, with violence, with narratives. There, work isn't exhibited, but confronted.
Perhaps it's all autobiographical. Perhaps not. The connections are there, but they aren't linear. They emerge in the in-between—between intention and chance, between memory and construction.