Ever since I can remember, I feel an unconditional love for art, films, theatre and history. As a child I had so many future plans, I was changeable as the weather, but one thing was quite certain: I wanted to do something that involves the infinite possibilities of the imagination. Whether I  wanted to become an artist, pastry chef, painter, writer or film director, the need to control all those untameable thoughts inside my head was always there.
At an early age I wondered what life actually is.
Realizing that I see the world from a first person view, without understanding why, fascinated me deeply. My dreams and even my memories play like movies inside my head – colour schemes and close ups included.
After the self chosen death of my best friend, my first love and comrade writer, early 2018, I wanted to capture my feelings of meaninglessness into image and words.
As I embrace life, I embrace death: It frightens me and it attracts me.

This has always been so and it became stronger ever since.I sought the imagination of the finite, the infinite and the absurd in between. The insane futility in all its glory.

       I don’t believe life has a purpose.

Since then my work is an ode to death, an ode to life, but above all, an ode to fantasy.


I believe the human brain is too small to comprehend this greatness of futility, but there is no need when you embrace it in loving simplicity. Naivety, fragility and even insanity is wonderful.

I like to be someone else. And eventually it becomes part of me.   

Losing myself in worlds that don’t exist has never been strange to me.
Exploring and experiencing the figments of imagination from another human (or creature) draws me since my discovery of the empathic being.
My delicate health and tendencies to depression intensifies that. Life is finite, but a story is able to surpass death.

Most of my life I live inside my mind; as memories, fantasies and fears that I transform into stories. I let myself be guided by wonder and astonishment and alienation (with eyebrows raised or frowned) and I want to feel until my heart breaks into the smallest pieces I can imagine.

Although I walk through life as an absurd hero, knowing life has no purpose, I feel the deepest necessity to convert my inner world into something physical and I even feel a need to share it with the outside world. How personal the intentions of my work may be, in the end we’re all human and we have the desire to seek and understand each other.
     
      Fiction is the lie that tells the truth. 

The made-up story allows us to see through the eyes of another person, to fantasize, to feel, to learn and eventually it can change us (a little bit) in real life. It makes us think about the subjects we prefer to stay far away from in reality. 
Daydreaming is the beginning of change and movement and progress in our being as human kind.
 

The more personal our story,
  the more universal it becomes.