I painted sickness, sorrow, and silence.
Love as loss. Death as companion. Anxiety as atmosphere.

The Scream wasn’t about a figure — it was the sound of existence.

I didn’t follow art trends. I followed pain, memory, obsession.
I believed art should wound. Should echo. Should last longer than the body.

This profile is for the ones who feel deeply, speak rarely, and use art to whisper what can’t be said aloud.

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