On a Visual Language Taking Form

Hopp, 2011

Pieces of a Soul, 2024

The Promise, 2025

One painting was made in 2011. The two others are from 2024 and 2025. It is a long span of time, enough for a visual language to change.

“Hopp” (2011) was painted before there was a method. Starting was uncertain. The acrylic resisted. The colors slid or broke, and the attempt to soften transitions became a struggle. There were no direction and no decisions, only action and frustration. Only when I stepped back did a form appear. A bird pushed out of the color fields and I made it visible. It was not a motif and not a message. It was a simple acknowledgment: something is here, let it be.

The later works, “Pieces of a Soul” (2024) and “The Promise” (2025), come from another way of working. Today there is a method and an inner logic. The work happens in collaboration with the material. Ink, acrylic and paper are not tools but co-creators. They have their own demands and limitations. The paper absorbs or resists. The ink moves faster than the acrylic. What cannot be controlled becomes part of the work.

The difference between then and now is not about becoming better or more certain. It is about clarity. The lines no longer hesitate. They know where they are going, even without language. Decisions are quick and intuitive. It is the body that slows the tempo and makes the work more concentrated. Working is no longer about finding the form, but about giving it space.

The bird is the constant. It is not a motif and not a symbol to decode. It functions as an existential figure, a few steps away from the human yet close enough to carry its questions. This is why the birds have no eyes. Eyes turn the figure into an individual. The individual is easily psychologized and turned into a story. The story closes. Without eyes, the bird remains a body, a direction and a possibility. It is human in its vulnerability, but not personal. It can be carried by anyone.

What matters is not the bird as motif, but what it makes possible: a place where the inner landscape of the human can meet an outer form without either needing to be explained. This is where the paintings find themselves today. Between perception and interpretation, between body and material, between a wordless self and something beyond it.

Fifteen years later, in 2026, the work is not finished. The visual language continues to take form. And to listen.