Everything that changes...

2014- Ongoing

In this process of introspection, I have also learned to recognize the healing power of nature. I have come to understand that the places around us have an immense capacity to help us heal, not only physically but emotionally. There are spaces in the world, those forgotten or seemingly simple corners, that offer refuge to the soul. The stillness of a forest, the softness of the breeze, the warmth of the sun on the skin—these all invite us to be present, to listen to our inner self, and to find comfort. I have learned to observe these natural spaces more closely, and I have realized that they have their own stories to tell, that they are witnesses to the passage of time and the lives that have walked through them.

Therefore, my art now draws from not only the human experience but also from the earth, from the landscapes, from the natural elements around me. These places are no longer just backgrounds for my images; they are characters that speak, that show us a different perspective on life and teach us the importance of caring for our environment.

This change, though painful, has been liberating. By connecting with my own vulnerability, I found a new way to look, to capture moments that once went unnoticed. It is no longer just the exterior that I want to convey, but the emotional world, the subconscious, what lies hidden in the depth of each gaze, of each gesture.

Thus, through my camera, I no longer speak just of life but also of what lies behind it. And from here, from this small town, I can express myself in images that invite reflection on what is fleeting, what is essential, what is invisible, and the vital connection between the human being and the natural environment that offers us healing.

January 23, 2014 marked a before and after in my life, and therefore in the way I view the world. That day, death appeared inescapably on my path and forced me to face a reality that, until then, I had only observed from a distance. What began as a brutal blow, a forced return to the nest, deeply blocked me in my creative process. The tension between life and death, uncertainty and pain, submerged me into an internal silence that seemed to paralyze me as an artist.

However, over time, I realized that this journey inward was far deeper and more necessary than I had imagined. My art no longer depended solely on the outside world, on grand stages or distant stories. The search was no longer out there, in the big themes of art, but within me, in the everyday, in the small details I had once overlooked.

Today, my artistic focus has changed. I no longer need more inspiration than everything that happens in the small town where I live. This place, full of simple yet profound stories, anonymous faces, and everyday landscapes, has become the reflection of my inner world. My photographs are no longer just images of what I see, but expressions of what I feel, what I have lived, and the existential questions that concern me: life, death, the passage of time, human relationships.