I am in a phase of creation.
Not at the shore, not in the deep — but somewhere in between, where tides are shifting and everything is possible.
I am still photographing.
It is my horizon, my way of seeing, my quiet observation —
like watching the sea breathe in and out.
And at the same time, I lose myself in acrylic paint —
in pigments flowing like currents,
merging, dissolving, finding their own path.
In textures that rise like waves without force.
Free.
And yet deeply connected.
Photography and painting — like sea and sky meeting within me.
I love the pastels.
Those soft, misty tones,
like early morning over the ocean,
where everything blurs into feeling more than form.
Light and shadow drift like reflections on water —
fleeting, but full of quiet meaning.
And then there is the pencil.
The greys — like storm clouds above the sea.
There, I find character.
Depth.
Truth.
In every line, a tide moves,
a soul reveals itself.
But color carries life as well.
It is vivid, alive — like coral reefs, like sunlight dancing on waves.
Full of joy,
like a heart that cannot help but feel.
My art is an ocean.
A search for depth.
For energy.
For a kind of rebirth — like rising again with each tide.
It is passion.
It is color and character.
It is mysticism — an endless sea, constantly reshaping itself.
And perhaps, in the end, that is exactly what it is:
A symphony.
A melody of a heart
that beats like waves against the shore
and moves in the rhythm of the sea.
