I recall my first desire to become an artist at the age of seven. While other children dreamed of becoming doctors or firefighters, I distinctly remember saying, “I want to be like Picasso.” In the 1990s, my only window onto the world was an encyclopedia. I did not yet understand Picasso’s work or historical weight—only that his name carried the echo of creation. What I did understand, intuitively, was the impulse to make.

As I grew older, I spent countless hours painting in solitude. I began with oil on canvas, later moving toward watercolor and, eventually, photography. Over time, my artistic language evolved into an inquiry into light, perception, time, and the invisible structures through which meaning emerges in visual experience.

Living in New York marked a decisive turning point. Immersed in its contemporary art ecosystem—through my involvement with the Whitney Museum and my regular presence in galleries and institutions—I became acutely aware of the tension between institutional narratives and the fragile, often private, origins of artistic creation. I observed how aesthetic languages are shaped, elevated, circulated, and sometimes transformed by the systems that support them.

Art has always possessed the power to move, disturb, console, and endure. Yet not every work speaks to every viewer. This fundamental tension—between experience and reception, intention and interpretation—became the origin of a persistent question that continues to accompany my practice: What makes art meaningful today?

I approach this question from a humanist perspective. I believe that art, beyond form and innovation, carries an ethical and existential responsibility: to question, to connect, and to leave a perceptible trace within our shared cultural consciousness. At the same time, my education in law, economics, and institutional systems has made me lucidly aware of the forces that shape artistic visibility, circulation, and value. The paradox between sincerity and spectacle, between inner necessity and external validation, lies at the heart of my current project, "On Meaning".

"On Meaning" is not conceived as a rejection of institutions, but as a space of reflection within them. Through collage, recontextualized photography, and conceptual assemblages, the project examines the systems—historical, economic, and symbolic—through which artistic meaning is constructed and negotiated today. Rather than mocking the art world, it seeks to understand its mechanisms from within, and to question how artistic integrity may endure in a globalized and commercial landscape.

By juxtaposing images, symbols, and fragments of artistic discourse, the work navigates the fragile boundary between reverence and irony. It asks whether contemporary art, in its pursuit of constant innovation and visibility, risks drifting away from the human, spiritual, and ethical dimensions that once gave it depth. These questions are posed not as accusations, but as invitations to reopen dialogue.

Ultimately, "On Meaning" proposes a pause. A moment of suspension within the accelerated circulation of images and meanings. It invites viewers to look again—more slowly, more attentively—and to rediscover art’s capacity to illuminate rather than obscure. Situated at the intersection of perception and critique, concept and emotion, market and meaning, the project affirms art as a space of encounter: between image and idea, artist and viewer, world and interior life.