The beginning is in the encounter with the material, with memory, with an internal movement that seeks to break out. Glass is not just raw material, but also a means of listening and discovery; through it, I examine processes of decomposition and transformation. The process itself takes a central place, no less than the final result.

Glass as a material resonates with me—it constantly creates tension; it is both protective and blocking, yet at the same time transparent, vulnerable, revealing. It creates a barrier like a window or a thin screen that separates inside from outside but allows a view inward. This duality enables me to work with it as a metaphor for what we try to hide, to keep closed, yet still longs to be seen. Glass preserves but also reveals; it surrounds what is fragile and simultaneously testifies about it.

Through actions of engraving, breaking, firing, and duplicating, a living and dynamic material language is built. Every action generates a response; the material changes, tears, and is rebuilt. From the remnants and the unpredictable—soot, splashes of fire—new images, layers, and marks emerge. I act in tune with the movement suggested by the material, allowing stains to lead, enabling shapes to be born from the remnants.

The break is not a closing point but a window opening to deep inward reflection; the crack is a point of entry where the material no longer hides but reveals. Even when I work with paper, fabric, or oil, I seek that same moment—the moment when what lies beneath the surface wants to surface, say, be revealed. The process itself is a creative journey—an open exploration of time, friction, heat, and memory.

I search for the moments when something new is born from what has been damaged. Like reading coffee grounds, I follow signs that appear in the material, recognizing movements, traces, and visual memories. Layer by layer, the work is built—a process and an outcome like cave paintings, growing from direct contact with life, with what is preserved, and with what insists on emerging.

Glass, as a material, resonates within me with constant tension: it protects and obstructs, yet at the same time it is transparent, fragile, revealing. It creates a barrier, like a window or a thin screen that separates the inside from the outside, while still allowing a view inward. This duality allows me to work with it as a metaphor for what we try to conceal, to keep closed—and yet longs to be seen. Glass both preserves and reveals; it envelops what is fragile while simultaneously testifying to it.