My work is grounded in material processes and the conditions under which form emerges. Rather than treating materials as neutral carriers of meaning, I understand them as operative materials: wood, stone, pigment, wax, metal, paper, or organic matter are not shaped to illustrate ideas, but to expose their structural logic, resistance, and transformation over time.

Many of my works engage with surfaces, layers, and skins—not as metaphors, but as factual zones of interaction. A surface is where inner and outer conditions meet: pressure, growth, erosion, sedimentation, decay. These processes are neither symbolic nor expressive; they are physical events that leave traces. My practice attends to these traces and allows them to remain visible.

The works often arise from specific material contexts. Materials are collected, processed, or altered within defined spatial, geological, or biological conditions. Pigments are ground from stone, ink is derived from organic processes, wood carries traces of growth, stress, and structural change. What may appear as reduction is the result of concentration: a narrowing of means in order to intensify attention.

Form is not imposed. It unfolds through the exposure of material to specific constraints and conditions. Repetition, seriality, and modular systems are used to test limits rather than to establish order. Deviations, irregularities, and tensions are not corrected; they articulate the internal logic of the work.

My practice does not aim at representation or narrative. It operates through presence. The works propose situations in which viewers encounter material processes slowed down, isolated, or condensed. Meaning does not precede form; it emerges through perception, duration, and proximity.

In this sense, my work resists clear categorisation between sculpture, drawing, and architecture. It is concerned with structure rather than image, with condition rather than expression, and with the processes that allow form to appear—and to disappear again.