A thousand and one reflections, never quite the same.
My studio is not a gallery, it is a body, a cave, a mirror.
Paper and silence, echo and flesh.
Everything you’ll see here is mostly me.
I work with ghosts and gods, ruins and roles, past and future. I dig, I paint, I model, I cover, I strip away, I become.
You are welcome to enter, even if you don’t know why.
This is the room.
Not a gallery, not a showroom. A skin of made of fragments, of paper, of contemplative silence.
Every inch was touched, cut, glued, covered, painted or whispered into.
Here, identity is a process of one that crumbles, reforms and reflects itself.
You are welcome to enter, but know that this place see you too.
Fragments of my work
Meet Mr P
The historical portraitist. He walks through centuries, telling stories with powdered cheeks and lace. Mr. P appears in living events, draws portraits on site, and invites the public to time-travel through art. He’s not a character, he’s a presence.
Sometimes I become him, sometimes he becomes me.
To exist is to be seen
My studio is open, not just to be visited, but to welcome presence.
I paint portraits.
From life, from photographs, or from something invisible but felt. Each portrait is a way of saying: I see you. A ritual of honour, attention, and reflection.
You can become part of this practice, not as an object, but as a mirror, just like me.