I discovered origami at a very young age. I must have been six or seven when a young man crossed our path - someone my father, as a captain, had helped travel from one island to another on the indian ocean. His way of saying thank you was simple yet unforgettable: he taught us children how to fold paper into life.
Out of flat sheets emerged delicate forms - cranes, boats, small creatures - quietly coming into being through nothing but patience and touch. I didn’t know then that these moments would stay with me far beyond childhood.
The figures followed me throughout my life. A small flying crane, in particular, always had the ability to lift a mood, to bring lightness into any situation, as if it carried a quiet promise within its wings. Now, I return to this early fascination and bring it into my work.
My paintings are no longer confined to the surface. They extend, unfold, and rise into space - where color meets form, and two dimensions gently transform into three. Origami becomes part of the image itself, not placed upon it, but growing out of it, as if the painting had learned to breathe.
This connection between painting and origami creates a new layer of storytelling - one that moves beyond the visible and invites the viewer to step closer, to explore, and to rediscover the wonder of transformation.
Because sometimes, all it takes is a folded piece of paper to remind us how something simple can still take flight.