About me
I’ve always drawn. At school, my notebooks looked more like lots of little paintings than classwork: colours everywhere, lines, circles, patterns… I was making my own world. Together with a friend sitting next to me, we filled whole albums that looked like comic strips while listening to the teachers. We drew our classmates, our teachers, everyday scenes. We were obviously asked to create the illustrated end-of-year school journal, as every teacher saw us drawing in their classes…When I was eight, I found myself a sewing club for making things, and I started hand sewing soft toys — to play with and to gift. Creating was already, back then, a big joy.
Later, when I moved to France as an adult, I joined a small community art centre where you could try different artistic activities. I tried watercolours – not really my thing, I was missing volumes and something else I couldn’t explain. I still find watercolour artists amazing, because it’s very hard to think in advance about the blank spaces you need to keep, before even drawing anything. So, I tried oil painting, and I did like it. But I always wanted to add texture, thickness, something that stands out from the canvas. I needed it to be more three-dimensional.
When we moved to Spain, my neighbour Maria and I joined a local craft centre. I kept oil painting — on canvas, on wood, adding materials like plaster, cork, textiles. There, I met a very talented Georgian painter, Zaza, who gave me a few lessons on how to draw portraits with pencil. It was a huge step for me, being taught by a professional artist as before I was learning as an autodidact through my own trials and mistakes.
After moving back to France, to Rennes, I found a local studio where people worked with clay. And there, I fell in love with clay immediately. Working in volume came naturally, even though I wasn’t good at technical drawing at school and thought I didn’t have a 3D vision. But it wasn’t machines or engines creations like in class — it was nature. And that changed everything. I started sculpting animals: a chicken, a bear, cats, seals… Then I moved on to live modelling several times a year, usually on weekends. I participated in a masterclass with an amazing potter, Jacque, who showed me the hand movements needed for wheel throwing. Creating with your hands gives a very special feeling — a joy of life in every minute of it.
When I arrived in Australia in 2023, I found a place where I could meet people like me — people in love with art — at Castlemaine. I also met a French potter Angie in Bendigo, with whom I made the very first kiln firing which lasted for 12 hours. That’s where you really understand what potters work is like… I set up a tiny ceramics corner in my garage & started firing my pieces at CC. You don’t need much space. Desire to create and imagination is enough to start with.
I learned — and I’m still learning — about glazes, testing different clays, experimenting with techniques like slip trailing, nerikomi, and sgraffito. Lately, I’ve tried porcelain. White, soft, almost like the snowy powder from my childhood winters. Ceramics gives me a feeling of total freedom and practicality: if you want a custom object, you simply make it. So I began with practical pieces – plates, cups, vases – and then decorative pieces, little playful objects that stay on the table, both to look at and to touch. We didn’t bring a lot of things from home, so I had empty shelves and plenty of space for creation. Creating with your hands gives a very special feeling. And it doesn’t matter what it is or which material is used. The best instrument we have in life is our hands.
Whenever I travel, I have to visit art galleries and exhibitions. It’s automatic. It inspires me, gives me ideas, emotions… and simply, pleasure.
I often wonder what art is. I think it’s painting, drawing, sculpting, writing, singing, dancing, imagining. There isn’t really one definition. Art doesn’t only decorate. It tells something, it expresses something, it makes people think. Since the beginning of time, humans have drawn to express what words couldn’t say. Art has a place in society. It reminds us that beauty exists, but also questions, ideas, emotions. A piece of art can touch, disturb, comfort, or make you smile. The artist doesn’t give answers; the artist opens a door. A door for you to imagine, to feel.
With children, it starts naturally. Put a pencil in a child’s hand and they immediately begin to draw. It’s instinctive. Art helps them look more carefully, imagine, tell stories. It develops memory, creativity, even language. And it teaches patience. Every creation takes time. Even a small piece. It’s a different rhythm — calmer, more attentive. It puts me in a meditative mood. I forget about the existence of time, food, and sleep. It’s almost an addiction — but a good one.
Creating is good for the mind. You follow your emotions, your movement, you let yourself be carried. There are no rules. It’s a space where you can put what’s in your head or in your heart. I express my emotions and my thoughts through it.
I believe the art has always been part of life. Every culture in the world has its own forms. There is no beginning, no end. Only humans have this need to create with their hands. It’s a simple pleasure of creating, again and again.
My ceramics often play with blues and greens, inspired by the calm life of sea and river creatures. I’m also drawn to hollow forms — pieces with open, empty spaces that give them lightness, movement, and a feeling of suspension.
For me, an empty space is never truly empty: it can hold thoughts, desires, memories, or emotions.
Every object becomes a small vessel, a place where something invisible can live.
This mix of nature, colour, and inner space shapes my ceramics and gives them their voice.
I’ve always drawn. At school, my notebooks looked more like lots of little paintings than classwork: colours everywhere, lines, circles, patterns… I was making my own world. Together with a friend sitting next to me, we filled whole albums that looked like comic strips while listening to the teachers. We drew our classmates, our teachers, everyday scenes. We were obviously asked to create the illustrated end-of-year school journal, as every teacher saw us drawing in their classes…When I was eight, I found myself a sewing club for making things, and I started hand sewing soft toys — to play with and to gift. Creating was already, back then, a big joy.
Later, when I moved to France as an adult, I joined a small community art centre where you could try different artistic activities. I tried watercolours – not really my thing, I was missing volumes and something else I couldn’t explain. I still find watercolour artists amazing, because it’s very hard to think in advance about the blank spaces you need to keep, before even drawing anything. So, I tried oil painting, and I did like it. But I always wanted to add texture, thickness, something that stands out from the canvas. I needed it to be more three-dimensional.
When we moved to Spain, my neighbour Maria and I joined a local craft centre. I kept oil painting — on canvas, on wood, adding materials like plaster, cork, textiles. There, I met a very talented Georgian painter, Zaza, who gave me a few lessons on how to draw portraits with pencil. It was a huge step for me, being taught by a professional artist as before I was learning as an autodidact through my own trials and mistakes.
After moving back to France, to Rennes, I found a local studio where people worked with clay. And there, I fell in love with clay immediately. Working in volume came naturally, even though I wasn’t good at technical drawing at school and thought I didn’t have a 3D vision. But it wasn’t machines or engines creations like in class — it was nature. And that changed everything. I started sculpting animals: a chicken, a bear, cats, seals… Then I moved on to live modelling several times a year, usually on weekends. I participated in a masterclass with an amazing potter, Jacque, who showed me the hand movements needed for wheel throwing. Creating with your hands gives a very special feeling — a joy of life in every minute of it.
When I arrived in Australia in 2023, I found a place where I could meet people like me — people in love with art — at Castlemaine. I also met a French potter Angie in Bendigo, with whom I made the very first kiln firing which lasted for 12 hours. That’s where you really understand what potters work is like… I set up a tiny ceramics corner in my garage & started firing my pieces at CC. You don’t need much space. Desire to create and imagination is enough to start with.
I learned — and I’m still learning — about glazes, testing different clays, experimenting with techniques like slip trailing, nerikomi, and sgraffito. Lately, I’ve tried porcelain. White, soft, almost like the snowy powder from my childhood winters. Ceramics gives me a feeling of total freedom and practicality: if you want a custom object, you simply make it. So I began with practical pieces – plates, cups, vases – and then decorative pieces, little playful objects that stay on the table, both to look at and to touch. We didn’t bring a lot of things from home, so I had empty shelves and plenty of space for creation. Creating with your hands gives a very special feeling. And it doesn’t matter what it is or which material is used. The best instrument we have in life is our hands.
Whenever I travel, I have to visit art galleries and exhibitions. It’s automatic. It inspires me, gives me ideas, emotions… and simply, pleasure.
I often wonder what art is. I think it’s painting, drawing, sculpting, writing, singing, dancing, imagining. There isn’t really one definition. Art doesn’t only decorate. It tells something, it expresses something, it makes people think. Since the beginning of time, humans have drawn to express what words couldn’t say. Art has a place in society. It reminds us that beauty exists, but also questions, ideas, emotions. A piece of art can touch, disturb, comfort, or make you smile. The artist doesn’t give answers; the artist opens a door. A door for you to imagine, to feel.
With children, it starts naturally. Put a pencil in a child’s hand and they immediately begin to draw. It’s instinctive. Art helps them look more carefully, imagine, tell stories. It develops memory, creativity, even language. And it teaches patience. Every creation takes time. Even a small piece. It’s a different rhythm — calmer, more attentive. It puts me in a meditative mood. I forget about the existence of time, food, and sleep. It’s almost an addiction — but a good one.
Creating is good for the mind. You follow your emotions, your movement, you let yourself be carried. There are no rules. It’s a space where you can put what’s in your head or in your heart. I express my emotions and my thoughts through it.
I believe the art has always been part of life. Every culture in the world has its own forms. There is no beginning, no end. Only humans have this need to create with their hands. It’s a simple pleasure of creating, again and again.
My ceramics often play with blues and greens, inspired by the calm life of sea and river creatures. I’m also drawn to hollow forms — pieces with open, empty spaces that give them lightness, movement, and a feeling of suspension.
For me, an empty space is never truly empty: it can hold thoughts, desires, memories, or emotions. Every object becomes a small vessel, a place where something invisible can live.
This mix of nature, colour, and inner space shapes my ceramics and gives them their voice.
Early paintings
I prefer to paint with oil and pastels. They are forgiving when mistakes are made. Oil has a special nobility — rich, deep, and timeless. A material that can stay forever, holding colours without losing their strength.
Pastels, on the other hand, let me draw intuitively, catching a movement or an expression. Both gave me freedom to explore, to change, to layer, to try again.
Early sculptures
Sculpture is a slow process for me, something that grows with time and practice. I began with animals — chickens, bears, cats, seals — because they have expression, humour, and a quiet presence.
Later, I moved to sculpting humans through live-modelling, observing real bodies, real poses, and learning to understand weight, movement, and stillness.
Working in volume takes patience: finding the right curve, adjusting proportions, correcting again and again until the form feels alive. Whether it’s an animal or a human figure, I try to capture a mood, a gesture, or a small inner feeling.
