Elena - a few shots

I do not generally do portraits but sometimes, with the right subject, it’s good to stop, look, think and enjoy the beauty of light and people.

Good memories of my years in New York, and what this beautiful city brought and represented in my life.

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Sketchbook #72 - Gouache and my bad brain

I think one of the main obstacles in art — at least in the way I experienced it — is the overwhelming number of tools available, and how collecting fine art materials can easily become a real addiction.

Experimentation is important, of course. It’s part of finding what resonates with you, discovering your preferences, and slowly developing your own visual language. But I also realized that, for me, it often became a form of procrastination.
We are constantly bombarded by advertisements and exposed online to incredible artists creating extraordinary work with every possible tool imaginable. It becomes easy to believe that by buying the same materials, somehow we might also become capable of producing the same kind of work.

That is insecurity speaking — the quiet voice convincing you that the next tool will finally unlock something in you.
For a long time, I believed it over and over again.
So I accumulated enough materials to fill an entire store, only to slowly realize how deceptive that mindset could be. Little by little, I began reducing my tools drastically and focusing instead on process, repetition, and attention.

There was also a period in the past when I experimented extensively with gouache and watercolor. These are some very old studies from life or masters — the few that, as usual, did not end up in the fireplace…. imagine the others….

Notre Dame

I still find myself stopping in front of Notre Dame quite often.

I’m lucky to pass by it regularly, and each time it feels slightly different — the light, the atmosphere, the rhythm of the crowd moving around it.

Sometimes I just look for a moment, sometimes it turns into a quick sketch or a couple of black and white photos.

It’s one of those places that quietly pulls you in without asking for attention.

Lines, Notes, Fragments

Drawing, music and photography have always been connected in my life, even when they seemed far apart.

Now more than ever, I feel the need for fewer tools, slower work, and more focused attention.

A pencil moving across paper.
Printed photographs in my hands.
Piano keys and synthesizers shaping the atmosphere of my journey.

Nothing can replace the physical gesture, imperfections, and a human rhythm.

I want to protect space for observation, solitude, and intentional work.

A slower process.
A more human one.

Lines, Notes, Fragments