15 years ago, I created my first work of art, a small and fragile woman.
Then I remember spending Sundays in a humid and cluttered artisan workshop, and then I attended the Fine Arts Academy, the darkroom, the charcoal drawings of a withered figure.
There is an indescribable pleasure in sinking my hands into wet clay and see it taking shape so quickly, in a much better way than I had imagined.
To create means to add and to remove.
I love the majestic shapes of Ron Mueck’s hyper-realism and the unsettling gaze of Nicole West’s tiny figures.
I love the deep marks left by the gouges on natural clay. I prefer natural colours to synthetic ones.
I love the sea in the winter, the sun in the spring, the light filtering through a window. I love the movie “The Piano” and the centuries-old olive trees of my birthplace.
