I see some fantastic structures that challenge the familiar and understandable order. Structures like slowly drifting clouds. Either futuristic or primitive forms, but in any case, alien to everything, as if they are not impossible constructions, but something that cannot be described with words and formulas, cannot be calculated. They are more like living organisms ...

While painting a picture, I do not expect a miracle to happen, for the work to suddenly come to life. I am internally convinced that these landscapes are real. All of this either already exists or will exist. I am convinced that thought is material; it already exists somewhere.

"Quite often, working on my paintings gives me a feeling of weightlessness, as if I am a dandelion fuzz, flying, obeying the God of the Wind, unable to control this flight. I can only contemplate, as if I am not painting a picture but meditating ..."

I am against order and logic in art. I do not like correct and understandable images.
I create Chaos.

There is something cosmic in these paintings, lost in the infinity of the Universe. As if traveling in this fictional reality, I sometimes take out a pencil and make sketches of what I see. It is like a kind of plein air in that reality where no one has ever been.