A transparent, red-colored satin fabric, lying light and soft in my hands, transformed by fire to open wounds of flesh. Creating while looking inside of me - what are we made of? Dead grass and flowers still standing on the meadow, cut them off, melt them between plastic. Conserve them, why do I want to conserve something?

Each material, artificial or natural, creates while running through my fingers, a necessity to create, to combine opposites with each other and to give meaning to something forgotten. What is forgotten?

It begins with the base of the canvas, which can be any material what there is to find. In this stadium of the work, I am building the ground, the first layer of many. Each following layer will be a part of the whole history of the canvas. Everything starts growing, moving and connecting. It is an intuitive flow between actions and reactions. It starts with the melody playing on the canvas between all different materials and colors. Until it starts composing into an over-floating symphony between work, space and observer. In that manner, the sensitivity and directness of a painting are meeting the spatial and constructive language of a sculpture.

Taking the first look at a work, it will try to seduce the observer by its appearance. The bright and shiny colors, the composition, the collage of structures from different materials. But looking closely, it offers the eyes a completely different world. There will be cuts, burned holes, flowers imprisoned by lacquer – not everything what seems to be beautiful is meant to be lovely. With each glance at the details, there will be found an indication of the unknown, a hidden component, which serves as carrier for the whole composition.