My practice is grounded in repetition, structure, and a quiet engagement with physical materials. I work primarily with steel nails and acrylic paint, shaping each piece point by point in a slow, tactile process that is both meditative and architectural. The technique emerged over time, through experimentation and instinct, until it became a language of its own, merging painting and sculpture into dimensional, and emotionally charged works.

The foundation of my work lies in two parallel directions. My larger portrait works are highly conceptual. They are constructed from thousands of industrial nails, layered over painted surfaces and arranged into fields of light and shadow. These portraits often reference classical art, but they are not reconstructions. They are meditations. Slow, precise, and charged with a kind of tension between control and vulnerability. Though made of steel, they remain fragile. Every nail is both a mark and a scar, carrying weight, memory, and silence. These works carry a certain weight, both in form and in intention. They speak to control, endurance, and the slow unfolding of an image through time.

Alongside them, my geometric compositions emerge from a more intuitive space. Some are monochrome, others explore rhythm, colour, and movement with playful precision. I see them as a space of liberation, a place where I challenge the boundaries of my own process, shifting from strict repetition to improvisation, between restraint and release, exploring rhythm, structure, and spatial sensitivity through minimal gestures or kinetic form. They allow me to explore transformation without abandoning structure.

My relationship with steel is both personal and paradoxical. I grew up around construction sites and industrial textures, which shaped how I see and feel. Later, I was diagnosed with a metal allergy and told to avoid working with certain alloys. Instead, I returned to them. Steel became a medium of resistance and resilience, but also one of restoration. It is part of the earth, and part of the body. Working with it is both grounding and transgressive.

At its core, my work is a form of disciplined presence. It is a physical and emotional process guided by rhythm, precision, and the quiet logic of the hand. I see it as a kind of dharma, an offering, a commitment, and a way to remain in dialogue with form, time, and energy. In many ways, it is a meditation, but also a form of love. This is not a path I chose. It’s one I continue to follow.