My art rarely begins with a clear plan.
It usually begins with a feeling.
Something inside me is moving, still without form, still without direction –
And that's exactly where I start.
I don't work according to fixed procedures.
I'm listening.
On my mood, on my body, on what is present right now.
Sometimes everything flows easily.
Sometimes it falters, becomes quiet, tentative. Both are part of it.
I'm taking my time.
I'm not forcing anything.
If something doesn't want to happen, there's a reason for it.
And if something comes along, it's allowed to stay – even if it's not perfect.
My art arises from a close connection to myself.
Out of honesty.
From the courage not to smooth over, not to embellish, not to explain.
I trust that what is real also works.
Ultimately, for me, a work is not a result,
but an imprint of a moment.
Just as I was.
Just the way it felt right.
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