I work with painting and sculpture as two autonomous languages searching for ways to speak to one another.

My paintings are visualisations of determinism. The „Corridors“ series depicts mythic labyrinths submerged in deep emptiness — austere, symmetrical interiors without ceilings, without people, without exit. Perspective is deliberately distorted, repetition monotonous, colour reduced to near monochrome. These are not depictions of specific places but of an archetype: the architecture of the human mind rising from the dark waters of the subconscious. A corridor is a metaphor for predetermined fate — a path that branches, but is ultimately linear and given.

Into this emptiness I place relics. A folding chair. A hunting trophy. A small oil painting by an unknown author, glued directly onto the canvas. These are traces of civilisation, sediments of lives and activities — but also points of orientation that draw the viewer into the game. These are not nihilistic works. They are a declaration of faith in cultural legacy as a bearer of humanism even in times of existential crisis.

My sculptures arrive from a different world — hybrid, grotesquely vital, emphatically physical. Where painting merely implies the human presence, sculpture confirms it brutally and simultaneously calls it into question. The figures are assembled from disparate materials and cultural references: fragments of socialist-realist statuary — workers, farmers, miners, bodies that once embodied a collective belief in a better future — colliding with the visual language of contemporary consumerism, film culture, and media spectacle. From today’s vantage point, these objects seem to belong to another world, yet they still sit on our grandparents‘ shelves. I am drawn to exactly this collision: the proximity of a collapsed paradigm. The result is figures that seem to have arrived from a different system entirely, and yet inhabit the space of the labyrinth as if they were always meant to be there.

Increasingly I am interested in what happens when these two languages enter spatial dialogue. Canvases folded into corners cease to be paintings — they become architecture. A sculpture placed within that space activates it, inhabits its emptiness, becomes an actor in a story the painting opens but never resolves. The viewer finds themselves inside — in the corridor itself. The series is modular: a horizontal band that can be configured, expanded into a traversable installation or contracted into an intimate enclosure. The sculptures are its variable inhabitants. The result is a work that is never the same twice, but always recognisable — a system that carries its own space with it.

What drives all of this is resistance: to convention, to aesthetic cliché, to the unreflective consumerism that has infiltrated even the highest levels of contemporary culture. I want the viewer to feel the ambivalence of aesthetic and cultural judgement — to sense how relative the categories of beauty and ugliness really are. But I also want there to be irony, play, something to hold onto in a positive sense.