My art is chaotic, fractal, dark and eternally self-reproducing, probably like our own universe. My tools are visual tensions: dissolution vs. resolution of the image, the expressiveness of the intellect vs. the rationality of composition, destruction vs. intricate construction, profusely worked vs. unfinished areas, knowledge vs. intuition, doubting art vs. worshipping it. My art is extremely self-conscious, turning its abstraction into reality.

I paint without apologizing, yet my art is always looking, not looking searching, the contradictions, in life, in love and in lovelessness. It speaks of and for the human race; tries to seek man's position in the cosmic millieu; loathes at the human condition, and at the helplessness, bondage and contradictions within it; portrays the absurdity, pointlessness and irrationality of the destiny whatsoever in our lives; satirizes God and the religions, mocks at the egotist nature of the humankind; cries out at the absolute loneliness of the human species, and, ironically, deifies the pain and beauty that go with it.

Yet, at the same time, the works speak of a threnody of hope, forever deceived and deferred, but never truly extinguished.