The Element “Luft”

I live in a city where the air has lost its breath. The sky is rarely blue, the soil is tired, and water comes in drops, not streams. This is not a poetic exaggeration—it is the reality of my birthplace, where millions live under the heavy curtain of pollution and concrete.

My work is a silent conversation with this place. I do not paint the city itself—I paint the nature that my body remembers and my heart longs for. From my window, I see walls, cars, dust. But on my canvas, there are leaves, lakes, and light. This contradiction is not an escape; it is an act of care. It is how I carry the memory of earth, air, and water inside me and offer it back in color.

Through video, I record small movements: the walk from my door to the busy street, the hidden garden behind a tall building, the reflection of dusty sunlight on concrete. These fragments become evidence of a life lived in resistance to environmental neglect. I whisper through images what cannot be shouted.

My daughter is the quiet center of this work. She is the reason I stay, the reason I might leave. As a mother, my care extends beyond my own body—into the future, into the air she will breathe, the soil she might walk on. I do not claim to heal these elements, but through art, I hold them close, remind others of their fragility, and perhaps, their sacredness.

If shown, my work would belong on walls where people pass in a hurry—maybe even in the streets of my own city. It would wait there, patiently, like a small tree growing through a crack in the pavement.


Statement

The furnace of a way called painting. An opening called art.
This fascinating path was always in the back of my mind, but I never had the courage to express it. Watching others paint has always inspired me. Playing colors and mixing them together was a good way to start.
Pulling out a design or a pattern from a messy background of colors.
The structure of the work is very important for me. It is the most difficult and at the same time the most attractive part of painting.

Destroying and building on the lower layers is more valuable to me than building
It is from the beginning. The existence of the lower layers makes the final result mature and more complete, and I am not afraid of destruction and changing the artwork.