Portfolio 2025
My art serves as a bridge, connecting our inner feelings to the outer world while also questioning our place in an age of rapid innovation. Blending the organic with the surreal, my work offers a visual language for complex psychological states—created to be an anchor for difficult times and a reflection on our shared future.
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2025 Gouache on paper 29×42cm
The journey of "Hedgehog's Dilemma" began not in the studio, but on a sticky note. It was an unconscious sketch, a doodle made while my mind was occupied with completely different thoughts. When I finally looked down and saw the drawing, it spoke to me instantly. There was a raw vulnerability to it that felt as though it had surfaced from a place I didn't know I had access to. It was a piece of me that had found its way out, and I knew I had to explore it further, to spend some time with this part of myself.To do that, I decided to translate the sketch into a painting. The medium was a crucial choice. I settled on gouache because of its patient, methodical nature. Its opacity and ability to be built up layer by layer felt like the right approach—it would allow me to slowly unveil the figure, almost like an archaeological process. It wasn't about speed; it was about giving myself the time to understand the form as it emerged on the board.
The actual painting process stretched over several weeks. It was a deliberately slow and intuitive practice. My main goal was to let my subconscious find its way back to wherever it had found that first sketch. I didn't want to force it or over-intellectualize the marks I was making. Each session was about adding a layer, refining a shape, and listening to what the image needed next.
The last two elements of the piece were the most conscious decisions. First, the background. I rendered it as a flat, dark void to emphasize that this feeling is entirely internal. It’s not a reaction to an external threat or a specific environment; the entire struggle is self-contained.
The second, and most difficult, decision was the eye. I was very unsure what to do with it for a long time. Should it be closed in pain? Should it be an empty socket? Ultimately, I decided to give it a soft, internal glow. It felt like the right balance—not an aggressive or defiant light, but a quiet acknowledgment of the life force that persists at the core of that vulnerability. It became the piece's focal point, the small, steady pulse in the surrounding darkness.
My reflections on the work
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2025 3D printed PLA(Polylactic Acid) plastic, Cement,
The journey of "Friction" began not with a sketch, but with an academic goal. It was for my first-year exam exhibition, and I was determined to move away from my usual intuitive process and challenge myself by exploring conceptual art. I spent weeks drafting ideas, landing on a concept about the tension between our internal landscape and the external world—how the psyche, left in isolation, needs "friction" from an "Other" to interrupt its recursive loops. I also knew I wanted to make a sculpture, and 3D printing felt like the perfect medium. It bridges the digital and the physical, acting as a powerful metaphor for the internal mind—a conceptual, immaterial space—being translated into a physical body. The plastic (PLA) became the "skin" for this idea.
My next challenge was to make this concept interactive. This felt essential to the core idea; the audience had to become that external force. I thought about what gets the thoughts flowing, which led me to fidget toys. This inspired the sphere, a "mind" that could be spun. From that, the idea of friction became literal. I sourced a heat-reactive, thermochromic pigment; as the sphere was spun by warm hands, it would change color, symbolizing the mind's activity and the warmth an external force can bring.
The sculpture, however, couldn't be a hollow, lightweight print. It needed presence, a physical weight to anchor its conceptual one. I decided to fill the bust with cement. This was the pivotal moment where the materials took over. As the cement cured, it expanded and fractured the PLA shell from within. This unscripted event became central to the work. I embraced it, mending the cracks with a soldering iron, leaving coarse, visible scars as evidence of this internal pressure.
The final two, and most definitive, elements were also consequences of this process. First, I filled the sphere with cement. This was a critical mistake with a profound conceptual outcome. Cement is a natural heat sink, which meant the heat-reactive sphere, so central to the original idea, was now internally, permanently cold. A fleeting human touch was no longer enough to warm it. The sphere also cracked and was scarred in the mending process.
Second, its context in the exhibition. The sculpture sat in a windowsill, untouched, its invitation for interaction completely ignored. This "failure" became its true meaning. The piece was no longer about a successful connection. It became a symbol of the immense difficulty of being reached, a profound internal coldness that a passing touch cannot overcome. Its only dialogue was with an impersonal, external force—the sun, which, over the days, would slowly warm a small sliver of the sphere, reinforcing the theme of the "Other" in a way I had never planned.
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2024 Gouache on Paper, 29x42cm
The idea for "Hope" arrived not as a clear image, but as a persistent, heavy feeling—a sense of profound exhaustion coupled with a stubborn refusal to collapse. My goal was to visually capture this dissonance: to portray hope not as a light, optimistic force, but as the heavy, grim, and exhausting act of survival.
Gouache felt like the right medium to explore this concept. Its opacity and patient, methodical nature allowed me to build the image in layers, almost like an excavation, mirroring the act of enduring. The painting process itself reflected this tension; it was a long, intuitive build-up where some parts were careful and deliberate, and others were fast and expressive.
I started with the figures, allowing them to find their own forms. I let the paint bleed between them—sometimes carefully, sometimes with raw energy—to physically merge their outlines.
The background was a conscious, deliberate decision, designed to manifest that internal war. I rendered it with a visceral crimson pushing against a stark, encroaching sunlight.
The most difficult technical decision was the eyes. I struggled for a long time with how to portray them to fit the theme. To paint them open felt false, and closed felt too peaceful. Ultimately, I landed on painting them as black, hollowed-out voids, which became the piece's focal point.
This final decision completed the visual language I was searching for. The entire process, from the layered gouache to the bleeding forms and hollowed eyes, became an act of rendering that heavy, complex feeling—translating a state of being into a physical image.
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2024, Acrylic on MDF, 20x30cm
This piece was executed on a rigid MDF plate. The smooth, unyielding surface of the MDF was chosen specifically for its ability to hold fine detail. This small, intimate scale was a deliberate constraint, encouraging a concentration of detail and emotion that lends a considered quality to the composition, making the figure feel present despite its physical size.
I applied acrylics like watercolor or gouache, layering thin, translucent washes to build up the visceral, fleshy tones. My intent was to create a luminous, stained effect that felt like it was radiating from within, rather than a thick impasto surface. This staining technique was essential for two reasons: it allowed for the fine, cracked detail in the skin, and it created a tactile tension by contrasting this dry texture with the slick, glossy application used for the wet, vital organ.
The color palette is fundamental to the atmosphere. The background is a wash of visceral reds and oranges—the colors of blood, womb, and sunset. These colors aren't just a backdrop; they are rendered to create a foundational, hazy environment. This warm, enveloping field feels simultaneously internal, like the heat of a womb, and external, like the light of an ancient, primordial world.
This warm color field is intersected by a bright, yellow-white light. This light source originates from behind the figure, serving both to illuminate the scene and to cast the subject in a high-contrast light that sets it apart from the background. The composition itself is built on this tension. There is a strong downward visual pull, physically anchoring the figure to the earth. This rootedness is contrasted by a clear upward-striving movement in the upper body, creating a vertical axis that defines the piece's central theme of being bound while reaching for transcendence.
The title 'Kalandra' is shared with the Norwegian band whose music became a key part of the painting process. After seeing them perform live, their album "A Frame of Mind" was on repeat for the entire three-week period. I allowed its sense of ancient folklore, melancholy, and immense natural power to infuse the work and guide the creation of its specific emotional environment.
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2024, Digital Painting
This piece is a digital work created by collapsing twelve distinct drawings into a single, unified image. The source materials were originally created as individual illustrations for a traditional twelve-month family calendar.
The artistic process involved digitally layering the twelve images and then using a liquify tool to actively smudge and collapse them together. This act of deconstruction is central to the work. By breaking the clean, month-by-month sequence, the piece transforms the structured ritual into a single, abstract composition. The resulting image is chaotic and blended, yet it retains a visual echo of the original calendar frames, serving as a visual release from the very obligation that created its parts.
‘depression’ 2024 Pen on Paper 29x42cm
This piece is not a portrait of a person, but an architectural map of depression itself. It visualizes the illness as an internal corrosion that hollows out the body, radiates outward to taint perception, and corrupts hope into a jaundiced, distant light.
‘Corpseflower’ 2024 Digital painting
The "Corpseflower" in this piece is a metaphor for technology itself: beautiful, grotesque, and parasitic. It blossoms from a figure hypnotized by a digital glow, suggesting that our tools may be reshaping our consciousness from within.