I create ceramic objects that are born on the border between sleep and wakefulness, in the twilight of consciousness — where logic no longer functions, and images surface on their own: abandoned labyrinth-castles where there is nowhere to hide, half-ruined houses where colonnades recede into the distance and grow ever narrower, self-enclosed forms, stone plants, clusters of nocturnal energy and thoughts. These states are elusive, but in clay I try to give them weight, density, an almost bodily presence.
Fear, loneliness, the unknown, weightlessness, uncontrollable growth, being stuck — these images cannot be expressed in words; they are forms, masses, voids within.
What interests me is not simply fantasy, but precisely the moment of transition between sleep and wakefulness, when consciousness begins to weaken and images rise to the surface whose nature I do not fully understand. It is the unconscious, like the memory of the body or its tension, yet the meaning of these images remains unclear. Images that are difficult to interpret and seem to come from something deep, and therefore mysterious. I sculpt by hand, using almost no tools, so that the form retains its inner tremor, vibration, imperfection, the feeling of dampness and haze. In dreams, words are not needed; everything there is built on sensations.
My objects are frozen fragments of a nocturnal dialogue. It is unfinished: meaning hangs in the air, the answer has not been found — but that is not so important; what matters is the process of the conversation itself. I try to hear myself through another voice. In ceramics, I do not create meaning — I create a field where that meaning can reveal itself.