I do not see wood merely as a material to be shaped; I see it as a living witness.

Every tree carries the traces of time: years of growth, storms endured, branches lost, wounds healed, and silences preserved beneath its surface. Before it becomes a sculpture, it has already lived a life of its own.

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My work begins by listening.

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Rather than imposing a form, I search for the one that already exists within the grain, the cracks, and the natural tensions of the wood. Each piece is a dialogue between the material’s memory and my own perception.

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The themes that guide my practice—memory, silence, transformation, thresholds, loss, hope, and conscience—are not abstract concepts; they are lived experiences carried within every human life. Wood becomes the medium through which these invisible experiences take physical form.

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I believe art should not provide answers; it should create a space where questions can exist—a place where viewers bring their own memories, confront their own silences, and discover meanings that belong solely to them. ​

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My sculptures are not representations of nature. ​

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They are conversations between nature and humanity, where time leaves its marks, memory becomes visible, and every surface tells a story that words alone cannot express.