During periods of self-doubt or stagnation, I try first to give myself space and time, without pressure. Often, stepping back helps me see things more clearly and with a fresh perspective. I usually deal with this kind of “block” in two main ways. The first is by looking back at old sketchbooks, artworks, and notes. Many times, when new ideas come to me, I write them down quickly and they end up forgotten in the pages of a notebook or in my digital files. Revisiting them is not only a search for inspiration but also a game of shifting meaning: seeing with new perspective something I once thought or created, and exploring how it might be improved or transformed in a different direction. The second way is through reading. From literature and art history to even the daily news, anything that sparks my curiosity thematically can eventually be translated into my own visual language. The outcome of these methods is always more sketches, again and again, until I move past that uncertain state and rediscover my creative flow.

A contemporary artist observes the world around them with sensitivity that often escapes the routine of everyday life. They watch and comment, capturing through their work thoughts, emotions, or social realities that we might overlook or hesitate to acknowledge. In my view, this unique perspective enhances the power of a work of art to shift the way its audience thinks. The change does not need to be permanent; a single moment of insight is enough—when someone looks at an artwork and says, “I’ve never thought of it that way before.” That moment, however brief, is a small triumph—the instant when art manages to open new windows in the mind, provoke questions, unsettle certainties, and inspire fresh perspectives.

The process of creating an artwork always begins with a subject that sparks my interest. Topics such as power relations in society, the boundaries between social groups, or overconsumption are ones I often revisit. Once I’ve chosen the subject, I study it thoroughly, also examining how other artists have approached it. With this inspiration, I begin sketching. This stage is completely free—a brainstorm of ideas—accompanied by music, images, and books that inspire me. This process can last for days until I arrive at a sketch that satisfies me. From there, the more technical phase begins: the sketch is divided into numbered sections, which are then enlarged proportionally and turned into patterns for the wood. Then, I manually cut each piece and move on to assembling the work. The steps are tied to the nature of the material and include: designing, cutting, sanding, surface preparation, painting, and final assembly. Although I always start with a design, I leave room for changes along the way. Still, the most time-consuming and decisive stage remains the creation of the initial design—the moment when the essence of the work is born.

Interaction with the audience is an integral part of my artistic process. My works often have an interactive dimension, giving me the opportunity to observe how each viewer chooses to engage with them. A characteristic example is a piece where I invited viewers (who in that moment became co-creators) to wrap a sculpture with thread. While I had initiated the process in a particular way, the viewers carried it out in unexpected and completely different manners from my own. This experience made me realize how easily one can get trapped in a single perspective considered “correct,” overlooking the countless alternative approaches that may exist. For this reason, I place great value on the audience’s feedback, whether it comes from people within the art world or not. Every viewer brings their own background and perspective, allowing the same work to acquire multiple interpretations. This polyphony not only surprises me in a positive way but also often helps me reconsider my own approach, broaden it, and view it more holistically.

The superpower I would choose would be the absolute knowledge and flawless mastery of every artistic material and medium, whether it is paint, metal, fabric, wood, digital tools, or even new, unknown materials that might emerge in the future. I have always been struck by the fact that the possibilities around us are endless, while our time and experience are inevitably limited. The need to dedicate years of becoming truly skilled in a single medium leaves countless other possibilities waiting, calling from the sidelines. With this power, every idea born in my mind could find its most authentic and fitting form. There would be no barriers between thought and creation; the artwork itself would “choose” the medium that best suits it. If I had this superpower, my work would be completely liberated. It would be as if an infinite palette opened before me—not only of colors, but of textures, volumes, and energies. My art would no longer be constrained by technical limitations, but would instead become a pure translation of imagination into reality.

Yes, at the moment we are in the process of organizing a project together with friends from abroad, which will bring the artistic communities of two countries into dialogue. The prospect of this collaboration excites me, as it opens pathways for meaningful exchange of experiences and ideas. Art has the unique power to act as a bridge between different cultures, creating common ground where differences are transformed into sources of inspiration. This is an endeavor I would love to develop further in the future, expanding collaborations with other countries as well. The sense of belonging to an artistic community—not only local but also international—is for me an immense source of strength and encouragement. It provides the support to keep moving forward, to grow, and to feel that your artistic voice becomes part of a larger dialogue that transcends geographical boundaries.