I love clay. I do not know if I was born with this love. But from the time I can remember, I remember myself playing with clay. As a kid I worked in modeling clay of different colors. 50 books of the encyclopedia were marked with this sticky substance making my dad angry. I was working on my 2'x2' sculpture garden making landscapes, planting trees and filling that environment with lots of animals. The Encyclopedia had great pictures of existing and extinct species. All that clay jungle was built on piece of plywood in a corner of the room. Once my little brother who was not walking very well back then awkwardly sat on a top of my garden destroying everything... Now think, why the dinosaur era ended so abruptly...I kept this love dormant most of my life but never lost it entirely. It sort of gives me a connection to the original source. My language in sculpture uses line, shape and texture and minimum colors. I’m fluent in this language, it gives me a power to make an observation, to speak to myself and talk to others. Those composition of masses, darkness and light create a pavement to the essence or, at least shows the direction. Clay is a medium that energize my creativity, channels my thoughts and I rare make pen and paper to sketch. For me it's a clay in my hand. I love clay.
