I do not see wood 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 sculpture, it has already lived a life of its own.

My work begins by listening.

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 sculpture is a dialogue between the material's memory and my own perception.

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

I believe sculpture 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 only 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.