about me

Portrait

My work has always begun from the same place — the distance between what is visible and what is actually happening. The tiger that was already walking before anyone turned the mirror. The woman whose stillness carried a question she never knew she was asking. The colors that need each other to exist fully. This work is perhaps the most direct expression of it.
When I was young, I painted myself in Sydney. The figure wears an Australian hat — a shield against the harsh sun, and against scrutiny. The expression is calm, perhaps even faintly satisfied. There is an ease to it, and a certain distance.
This is the exterior self. The version of us that meets the world.
But the exterior reveals half at most.
Using digital intervention, I fractured that painted face into one million pieces. Each fragment becoming a paint blob, released into chaotic animation — bouncing, spiraling, colliding, turning violently red. This is the interior choreography: restlessness, fear, anxiety, the desperate search for love. All the turbulence that flowed through my veins while the face above remained still.
The work presents eleven screens arranged in Fibonacci sequence — nature’s own pattern of order imposed on chaos. At any given moment you see all simultaneously: the finished portrait, calm and whole; the painting being painted, stroke by stroke, as if time is collapsing; and the fragments, wild and blood red, dancing their internal storm.
This is not a contradiction. It is simply human.
Edvard Munch’s The Scream has endured because it gives visible form to invisible anguish — the distorted face, the swirling sky, everything erupting outward at once. It is powerful precisely because it is exceptional. It shows us what we rarely witness: a person whose inside has fully broken through to the outside.
Most of us do not scream. Regardless of what moves through us, the face remains composed. The hat shields not just against sun but against the world seeing too much. Beneath that surface, for so many of us, there is chaos — restlessness, fear, longing, the desperate search for connection. But we do not show it. We have learned not to.
Munch painted the moment the face breaks. This work is about everything else — the ordinary, unwitnessed effort of the face that doesn’t.