2002-2016

My background in architecture taught me to think in terms of structure, proportion and the way people move through space. Plans, sections and façades were my first “compositions”: lines, grids and voids organizing how a space is experienced. In architecture and urban/landscape design, we shape how people move through and experience spaces: proportion, rhythm, light, void/solid, transitions.
Around 2006, my art starts to do something similar, but internally rather than functionally. Instead of designing a house, park, or airport, I began to design a felt space on paper/canvas or as installation.
So the focus moves from:
“How do I organize physical space for people to live or move in?”
to
“How do I organize visual and emotional space for people to look and feel in?”

In the banking crises in 2008 I lost my job as an architectural designer as so many of us. Luckily I could find a job at an artacademy teaching interactive architecture and spatial art. As a teacher I needed to redefine my work as an artist and find the connection between my art and my design.

I created series of quiet, layered compositions inspired by rooms, facades, and landscapes—often reduced to minimal lines, muted colour fields, and fragments of memory. The paintings explore how spaces feel rather than how they are constructed, inviting the viewer into a slowed, contemplative experience.In my later painting practice, these architectural principles did not disappear; they were transformed. The canvas became a condensed space, where memories of rooms, landscapes and atmospheres were translated into layered fields of color, line and texture. Instead of designing spaces to be built, I began to construct spaces of memory and perception—poetic architectures in two dimensions.
The installation with twelve computer screens, water, letters, graves, extends this exploration into a new, time‑based and multisensory form. Where architecture offers physical space and painting offers visual, condensed space, the installation creates a travel in poetry, image and sound. Each screen becomes a small window, a fragment of a journey, and together they form an environment that the viewer “walks through” with their eyes and ears. The rhythm of the images, the pace of the text, and the layering of sound echo the way we remember places: not as a single fixed image, but as overlapping impressions, emotions and moments.
In this way, architecture, painting and installation are three connected languages in my work. Architecture provides the underlying sense of structure and spatial awareness; painting translates that into intimate, tactile surfaces where nature and memory meet; and the installation opens the work into a temporal and immersive experience, where poetry, image and sound weave a narrative of traveling through space. All three share the same core question: how can we shape and share the inner landscape of remembered spaces?