From Center to Rotation

I don’t start with ideas. I start with contact.

A place. A situation. A body in space. Something that has weight. Something that actually happened.

These are my anchor points — what I call gold points. Not symbols. Traces.

From there, something begins to shift.

I don’t try to represent what I saw. I begin to filter. Not everything enters the image. Only what carries — a clear structure, a directional force, the potential to transform.

At some point I understood that my work follows two movements at once: collection and rotation.

Like a plant that gathers energy toward its center. And at the same time like a system that distributes force outward. A funnel. A carousel.

Both require the same condition: A center that does not move.

This is where the image begins. Not in motion — in stillness.

Everything that appears — figures, fragments, landscapes — organizes itself around that point. Pressure builds. Directions emerge. Forms stabilize, then dissolve again.

The body in my work is not identity. It is a temporary structure — shaped by forces, held for a moment, then transformed.

What I do is not documentation.

I translate: time into space — experience into structure — movement into form.