The series initially came to life as a joint project with painter Anna Herman. Our collaboration resulted in a 14-piece body of work (comprising both paintings and photographs) that can be described as a dialogue between two mediums. Our initial inspiration was threefold: drawing from literature (especially the works of Bruno Schulz), music (Claude Debussy), and, of course, ancient ornamental decorations. This provided the visual framework for the entire project, where each piece stands alone, yet together they form a cohesive narrative unified by color, style, and aesthetic language. We deliberately avoided imposing a specific narrative on the viewer, leveraging ambiguity to leave as much room for personal interpretation as possible.

I can trace this realization back a few years in my work. Throughout my career, I have always asked myself: how can I convey a story using purely visual and aesthetic elements—creating a narrative without actually documentin

I think it all comes down to two main factors: a shared aesthetic and the ability of each piece to carry its own story. For me, it is like telling the same story from different perspectives, rather than having a plot evolve across different pieces. However, each perspective can stand on its own. No matter how you arrange them or which pieces you select, the core narrative remains intact—much like an arabesque, which has neither a beginning nor an end.

I began exploring floral ornaments and patterns a year before starting work on the project. Following the success of the ANO/MONO project (featured in Aesthetica Magazine), where I investigated human anonymity and the boundaries of where a person ends and an object begins, I was looking for a way to fuse the figure even deeper with its surrounding space—this time in a fluid and organic manner. Flowers and botanical motifs seemed like a natural path forward.

I tend to start with a clear idea of the final goal, which usually narrows down to technical aspects like lighting and composition. From there, I approach the subject piece by piece, treating each frame like a study. Since I work mostly with pre-printed textiles, this naturally imposes certain limitations on how I construct each frame during the process. However, I try not to be too rigid about it.

I would rather leave it as ambiguous as possible. I believe that providing any explicit context could impose an unnecessary interpretation on the viewers. I've always resonated with the concept of 'the death of the author'—the moment an image leaves my studio, my own narrative ceases to matter. The work truly begins to live when the viewer steps in, bringing their own memories, fantasies, and experiences to the frame.

I am a huge fan of Art Nouveau painters—especially Gustav Klimt and Alphonse Mucha—but I also have a keen eye for Edward Hopper and René Magritte. As for photographers, I am inspired by Rodney Smith, Bastiaan Woudt, Michał Buddabar and Anna Karvounari.

That is a tough question—it is like asking a parent to choose their favorite child! However, I deeply value a piece from one of my previous projects, "Madonnas." It was actually stolen from an exhibition, but fortunately, it was later returned. Today, it holds a very special spot in my living room!