After the Renaissance, due to certain new ways of thinking, still life as a subject received special attention. Perhaps one of the most important reasons for this was the sense of stillness and contemplation embedded in that era—an invitation for humanity to pause and reflect. A moment, filled with silence, is captured within the artist’s frame, urging the viewer to meditate and perceive earthly life in its human essence, free from the weight of myths and legends.

I must say that the embryonic stage of each of my works begins with the arrangement of my models, and their childhood and adolescence unfold in the process of painting on canvas. These arrangements, inherently foreign to the traditional notion of still life, appear entirely different and contradictory—like a perfectly ordered moment within an explosion of chaos. The composition and placement of objects reflect a sense of congestion and disorder: dynamic and energetic in form, yet static in appearance. Perhaps their origins can be traced to an inverted footprint of childhood, to the apartment games of my generation. This paradox defines my personal approach as an author, introducing a stillness that is constructed through a dynamic arrangement.

Yet, the arrangement is not my final destination. It is merely a pretext for exploration and experimentation—an entry point into the worlds of form, color, chromatic structure, and the energy within hues. It is a place where events unfold or are on the verge of occurring. A place where visual relationships shape me more than narratives and incidents. A place where truth reveals itself beyond reality. A moment where disorder and chaos, confined within a static frame, grant me a profound sense of calm.