The Geometry of Memory

Home Art becomes a shelter when the world fractures.In days shaped by war, by silence in digital blackouts, by the weight of uncertainty, it is not a luxury, it is a way to remain whole. When everything outside feels unstable, art keeps the mind anchored. It continues quietly, persistently, even when the hands are busy elsewhere. In the middle of daily routines: walking, shopping, reading the…

I have wanted to write about the Iran massacre since the day it happened, yet every time I tried, words felt too small for the scale of grief. Some tragedies are so vast that language breaks before they do. For decades, countless innocent lives have been taken, families shattered, futures stolen by an unashamed murderous “Islamic” regime. But a mass killing of this magnitude cannot fade with…

Home Nie wieder. Never again. These words are not history. They are a responsibility. Today, Iran is covered in bullets. Not metaphorically but literally. Bullets in streets, in universities, in homes, and in hospitals. Wounded protesters are shot where they seek care. Families are denied information. Internet and telephone connections are cut. Iran is being sealed off from the outside world…

Home Tonight Hamburg is buried under snow. The streets are quiet, almost tender white roofs, muted sounds, a city wrapped in stillness. From the outside, it looks peaceful. Yet the calm does not reach me. While Europe sleeps under warm ceilings, Iran bleeds in the streets. The news is relentless. Protesters, young people, are being killed with military weapons. Not in war zones. In their own…

Monoprint oil-based ink on paper, 2008 Home Christmas and the New Year are no longer measured by rituals or expectations. They have become moments of pause-markers of having moved one year closer to understanding the world, and meaning itself, with greater clarity. Celebration shifts away from formal gatherings and expected signs of affection, toward something quieter and more internal. With…

Ceramic pendants | 2017 Home I begin from trust. I trust feeling before structure, intuition before strategy. I trust that making something with care, something honest, has value in itself. For me, creating is a way of contributing to the world, of shaping a quieter, more humane space both inside and outside. When I show my work, I do so with excitement, not calculation. Each piece carries…

Home When I fall ill, the world folds into a smaller radius. My body becomes the only landscape I can travel, a dim geography of aches and soft alarms. Art slips from my hands like a bird startled mid-flight— and I am left with nothing but the echo of making, the longing for creation humming quietly below the fever. In these hours, I trace the pain as if it were a line of charcoal. It…

Home Ceramic vase, 2017 Some moments in life arrive quietly, yet they change everything. They ask us to pause, to breathe, and to look deeper: beyond the surface of circumstance, beyond the noise of judgment, beyond the weight of expectation. And when we do, something remarkable appears: a sense of clarity that feels almost like a miracle. I’ve been reminded again that every experience, even…

Home Watercolour and crayon on A4 size paper | 2025 There are moments in life when everything feels uncertain, when we question our direction, our choices, even the purpose behind what we do. We try to move forward, but the road blurs, and every step feels heavy. In those times, patience becomes more than waiting; it becomes a form of faith. Patience is trusting that life unfolds in its own…