Sculpting people from life has become one of the most connective and grounding parts of my artistic journey. Working with clay allows me to step into the stories of others—ordinary people with extraordinary layers, whose lives unfold in ways that challenge and expand my own understanding of the world. The process is deeply intimate; as I sculpt, conversations unfold naturally, and people often open up about their lives, even though we begin as strangers. There’s something about the stillness of being observed and shaped in clay that invites honesty and reflection, creating a quiet, shared space of vulnerability and trust.

Each sitting is an intense experience that can stretch over ten straight hours, five days, or sometimes just a few fleeting hours. The time spent together becomes its own kind of portrait—a record of presence and connection that exists beyond the clay itself. Most of these pieces are never kept; they’re destroyed soon after, existing only in memory and the brief encounter between artist and subject. Only a few have ever been cast, yet each has left a lasting impression on my way of seeing and making.

Although sculpting from life isn’t always the main focus of my practice, it remains its heartbeat. It informs everything I do—keeping me open, empathetic, and aware of the shared humanity that runs through all my work. Clay, as a medium, embodies that connection: raw, responsive, and profoundly human. In its malleability, I find both freedom and empathy, a reminder that making is, at its core, an act of communication—a dialogue between self and other, touch and thought, art and life