Tired
This series started from something I felt — a deep exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix. I began noticing how often we say “I’m fine” when we’re not. How easily we hide behind that small lie, afraid to look fragile.
I also realised where the tiredness is coming from. It’s from feeling helpless, from the historical events that seem to have fallen on our heads all at once, and we haven't had a chance to handle them.
But tiredness also has another side. There are moments when the body gives in and we stop pretending. When we close our eyes, even for a few minutes, and let the world fade. In that short pause, something real appears — softer, truer, without the mask we show to others.
That’s what I paint. The quiet moment when you stop fighting and simply rest.
-
Tired woman
Let's embrace our vulnerability with courage and honesty. The woman was exhausted and, without feeling shy, she fell asleep in an uncomfortable position and in an inappropriate place.
Mixed media on canvas
180 x 120 cm
2024
-
Quick nap
A woman is lying on her bedspread, fully dressed, in a moment that could be a quick, refreshing 10-minute power nap or a tense pause during wartime, waiting for an air raid siren to sound so she can rush to the bomb shelter. No matter the circumstances, as she starts to drift off, she is enveloped in a warm, comforting sense of impending sleep, where all wars fade away.
145 x 193 cm
Mixed media on canvas
2025
-
Framed self
Sometimes I think about how easily we’re shaped by what we see and hear. Propaganda doesn’t always shout — it whispers, slowly teaching us what to believe, what to call “right.” From the stories we scroll through to the big words like ‘homeland’ and ‘patriotism’, it builds a quiet frame around us.
I catch myself wondering where that line really is — between what I truly think and what I’ve simply learned to agree with.
200 x 107 cm
Oil on canvas
2025
-
The piilow
A fresh, cold, soft pillow for a tired head.
Oil on canvas
110 x 110 cm
2025
-
Silent Resilience
It’s about that wave of frustration you carry inside when you can’t speak or change anything. When everything in you disagrees, but there’s no space to say it out loud. You live through it quietly, holding it somewhere deep. It’s not surrender, it’s endurance — a way of surviving when silence is the only language left.
Oil on canvas
120 x 50 cm
2024
-
Nomad
For me, immigration began as a fracture, a kind of quiet loneliness. But over time it turned into something else — a journey I never planned, yet one that keeps opening new paths.
I started noticing small things, small joys. A familiar smell on a new street, a word I finally recognised, a kind person who smiled at me. Maybe that’s what being a nomad really means — to keep moving, carrying home inside you, and finding beauty in what’s still uncertain.
Mixed media on canvas
90 x 50 cm
2025