Imagine the World’s most tragic moment, then, you found yourself deafly sunken in silence, driven away beyond sorrow and sadness until nothing was left. — That was how your wounded mind could strike you down.

At World’s end, which no voices could be heard, only one last thing you could do is lift up. Live.

The colors are our sights. The frame is our borderline between illness and reality.

The paintings are my invitation.