Mirages
‘The endlessly anxious human is drawn to mirages, illusions that echo our deepest desires.’
We lean on countless mirages, clinging to illusions as endlessly anxious beings. From the moment we separate from nature, leaving our mother's womb, we become incomplete and fragile, searching for a sense of wholeness.
In the warmth and protection of the womb, we received unconditional support. However, at birth, we are thrust into the world, immediately detached from that safety. As beings who were once part of something greater, we find ourselves in a state of separation. We continually seek something that can permanently connect us, a vessel that can hold our essence.
Yet, in reality, there are no definitive answers—only the vast web of relationships to which we devote our lives. We navigate these connections, hoping to find fulfillment, but often encounter the bittersweet truth that true completeness may always elude us. In this quest, we learn that the beauty of existence lies not in finding permanence, but in embracing the transient nature of our connections.
Tereza’s Dream series
2024
Oil on canvas, 97 x 145 cm
In Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being, the womb that holds Tomas, becomes sharp, wielding the sharpest weapon against herself.
The mirage of love, which began as a warm feeling, strips her, Tereza, bare and makes her indistinguishable from the others. The murmuring songs and frivolous dances grow louder and more frenzied, consuming them all.
One cannot love another completely. Unlike assembling a chair, we cannot take someone apart piece by piece and make them entirely ours. Thus, we endlessly give to and worry about others, trapped in perpetual uncertainty.
“Loose Socks, Unexpected Goodbye”
2024
Oil on canvas, 65 x 90 cm
”There were no socks. You must have been barefoot since you arrived." In that hurried moment, Tomas left Sabina’s place without even properly putting on his socks.
The disheveled state of his socks was a reflection of the unbearable lightness of being. A scene of a lover being caught cheating as the love wore two different socks one of them being a sock of the person who had an affair with.
Small things like this are clues to uncovering painful truths in our lives.
Check out your feet!
2024
Oil on canvas, 72.7 x 50 cm
Just as a mismatched pair of socks hastily worn in the snow reveals a man's fleeting indiscretion, our vulnerabilities often surface in the smallest of details. Like a strike to the Achilles’ heel, these subtle traces sometimes expose the truth, turning a minor mistake into a moment that reveals the weight of wrongdoing.
This piece, depicting a figure bending at an unnatural angle to inspect their own feet, visualizes human imperfection, self-censorship, and the anxieties within relationships. These minute traces carry profound narratives, exposing the insecurities hidden in our consciousness.
Have we ever truly examined our own feet? This act—and its outcome—embodies the unbearable lightness of being.
Gentle Engraving of My Name in the Sand
2023
Oil on canvas, 145 x 97 cm
For someone other than myself to carefully write my name — that delicate act may be the only proof that I exist, the sole thread tying me to this world. The trembling fingertips as the name is inscribed, and the trace left behind in that moment, become a kind of ritual. To endure the uncertainty of existence, someone writes my name repeatedly, erasing it, then writing it again, striving not to forget me.
This act transcends mere writing or record-keeping; it is a gesture of resistance against absence and oblivion. To ensure that the name is not erased — or that it will be rewritten even if it is — we cling to the name, etching it into the ground, reaffirming its meaning. Amid abstract flows, the motion of the hand writing the name leaves behind traces and tremors. At the boundary between presence and absence, memory and forgetting, the name ceases to be a simple symbol or character; it becomes a testament to existence.
Peek ! Boo
2024
Collage on paper, 42x30 cm
The illusions I create sometimes show only what I want to see, and at other times, they reveal things I wish no one to uncover. Were they truly created by my free will? I, too, held the key that Dalí once grasped. The moment the key fell, what I created felt like words my inner self wanted to say to me."
Untitled , 2023, collage on paper, 65x41
Untitled , 2023, collage on paper, 65x41
Eye contact , 2023, collage on paper, 65x41
BLINK!, 2021, video clip, 00:50
Blink!
2022
single channel video, 00:58
I painted the dead tree with pink preservative. The unnatural pink was vivid—a color that could never exist in nature. The painted tree transformed into something entirely new, and I placed it back into the natural environment.
The tree now stands there, no longer defined by its former death but by the new life I have given it. It stands alongside other trees, as if it had always been a part of them, seamlessly blending in. I have intervened in this tree’s life.
This tree is now another life, created by both nature and me.