Manifesto

“I am not an artist. I am the crack where meaning breaks through.”

He never waits for inspiration – he breaks down doors.
He doesn’t search for beauty – he drags it into the light from the most unexpected places.
His hands are made for real work: material, texture, challenge.
He creates not from marble, but from pure sensation, from echoes of the past, from objects others call accidental.

He is not here to please.
He’s here to shatter the fourth wall between art and life –
between what adorns homes
and what wakes up inside each morning.

His art is not a performance.
It is an intervention.
It is wonder – immune to cynicism.
Style, for him, is not the goal, but a tool.
What matters is that someone stops – not in a gallery, but in life.
To see a strange sculpture made of spoons and forks –
and suddenly remember they still have a soul.

His work is not decor.
It is a revelation that refuses to fit inside a frame.
A scream that cannot be ignored.
A drama denied by the gallery,
now greeting guests at the threshold: “I’m still here.”

He doesn’t seek to “enter the art world” –
he wants the art world to start suspecting it’s lost the point.
He dreams of an adult moved to tears by his installation,
of a teenager saying:
“This is strange. It’s powerful. It’s… real.”

His studio is a space for ideas and experimentation.
His galleries are places where energy, style, and vision collide.
His materials: children’s laughter, unexpected objects, boldness, energy.
His tools: anything that can surprise.
His brand: truth and love, spoken out loud –
and sometimes, it sounds like a challenge.

If you’re reading this – welcome.
You’re already inside his gallery.
Step in.
Here, art is alive –
here, there is life and energy.

He is not a brand. Not a concept. Not a product.
He is a father who can turn the everyday into art.
He is someone unafraid to mock pretense.
He is an artist –
because he refuses to be just an observer.