In today’s world, nature feels strangely distant. For many, it is both a source of longing and quiet fear. Surrounded by artificial environments and immersed in virtual spaces, organic life can seem unfamiliar, even unsettling. Yet beneath this growing detachment lies a deep human need: to reconnect with the living world that shaped us.

This tension is central to my work. After living for over 30 years in dense urban environments, I began to fear how far I had drifted from nature. Moving to a rural village confronted me with this distance, and slowly, through everyday encounters, helped me rediscover a sense of connection.

My sculptures emerge from this fragile balance between distance and closeness, anxiety and attraction. They reflect a contemporary condition, which might be called neo-Rousseauian, in which we are no longer fully at home in nature, yet are not free from its pull. We live mediated lives, experiencing the natural world more often through screens than through direct contact. Cinema, too, has explored this ambivalence, from Andrei Tarkovsky’s meditative landscapes where nature becomes both refuge and enigma, to recent ecological narratives that frame wilderness as both tender and threatening.

Through hand-building and wheel-throwing techniques, I create organic forms inspired by seaweed, chanterelle mushrooms, and petals, structures shaped by movement and chance. Each piece evolves intuitively, without strict planning, echoing nature’s quiet unpredictability.