I move between text, image, and structure, exploring how meaning can be constructed rather than simply told. I’m interested in the point where logic and imagination meet — where systems emerge from play, and narratives are assembled through fragments.
The works presented here approach childhood as a space of physical learning — standing, falling, holding on, balancing. As part of a broader series of experiments, I developed a small group of drawings inspired by “Amintiri din copilărie” book, translated into my own visual language. These are not illustrations of memory, but attempts to understand how experience takes shape before it is put into words.
A(l)titude, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
At height, the world feels different. In play, you dare things that later you would call dangers. Between sky and ground, balance isn’t safety — it’s courage.
Hang On, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
You missed my drawings? Here’s another experiment: how long can a body negotiate gravity before it becomes part of it? There was a time when falling didn’t count, then gravity stopped being negotiable.
Horizontal Sky, 2026
(50x70cm, ink on paper)
At ground level, the sky becomes horizontal.
The dust becomes a cushion and the world changes its size.
Here, courage does not mean climbing, but staying.
Ground Rules, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
It looked like a game, but there were always rules.
Where to step. Where not to. Not always written.
You learned them by crossing the line.
Tension, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
Between strain and control there is an invisible line.
That’s where everything is decided.
Too much, and you miss.
Above., 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
You’d think it’s a view from below. Look again, think of mc². Sometimes, what feels heavy becomes light, and the distance between play and effort is measured in smiles.
I Want to Break Free, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
Sometimes it’s better to close your eyes and trust the fall. It might work. There was a time when I used to do this.
Now I let Petrica — the name I gave this character — do it for me.
World on a String, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
I don’t remember when it started, maybe back when this was all I had to do, but I just know I haven’t stopped since.
Catch the Wind, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
I thought I could reach it, just a little more and it would be enough.
Take On Me, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
Without realizing it, we are prisoners of the ephemeral. But there are moments that remain suspended for a fraction of a second, as if time itself had patience with us.
In them, you feel a promise of what could be, and even if it will be gone in a day or two,
that promise remains.
And sometimes, that is enough.
Hit Me Baby One More Time, 2026
(70x50cm, ink on paper)
I was inspired by a childhood game whose name I no longer remember. I called it “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, and in my version it goes like this: tell me it’s just a game, tell me it’s really you, ’cause it hurts like hell knowing you’re not near.