Over the past year, the question of truthfulness became unavoidable.
I could no longer tolerate anything half-hearted — nothing that did not arise from depth, nothing that served self-presentation.
Something within me longed for clarity.
I searched, scratched, dissolved, reduced.
Revealed what was hidden beneath the layers.
It was painful — and liberating.
The longing for pure white, for truth, was strong.
Everything loud, garish, or effect-driven became too much.
True. Real. Reduced.
When I look at these works today, I am filled with a deep sense of calm.
And a quiet, clear satisfaction.