There are people
who do not just teach—

they change how you see.

50 years ago,
I stepped into a world of color.

Not knowing
it would never leave me.

Under the guidance
of Marie-Jeanne and Eduard,

what I felt
became something I could create.

I still remember
the scent of turpentine,

the silence of focus,

the first moment
something inside me
took form on canvas.

Later came other encounters—

those who opened the world of sculpture.

In the French Ardeche,
a Dutch couple Paola and Fred taught me
how bronze could carry memory,

weight,

presence.

How fire, patience and material
could transform an idea into form.

Years later,
at the academy,

Bertold introduced me
to the invisible architecture behind sculpture—molds, structure, transformation,

the hidden process
through which matter becomes permanence.

Some of them are no longer here.

But their presence remains—in every line,
every surface,
every fragment,
every search for meaning.

Today, I create
within a world of contrasts.

Light and shadow.
Truth and illusion.
Strength and fracture.
Material and myth.

And within that tension,
I continue what they began.

This space—

my works,
my sculptures,
this universe—

is not only mine.

It carries what was given.

So if something here resonates—

if an image lingers,

if a form unsettles you,

if a presence remains after looking—

know that it began
long before this moment.

And continues
through you.