Negative is not an effect or a stylistic device.
For me, it is a way to shift the focus from the recognizable to the felt. When light becomes darkness and darkness becomes light, familiar landmarks disappear. The image ceases to be an illustration and becomes a state. The viewer no longer “reads” the picture — they enter it.
In my work, I explore duality:
the internal and the external, the visible and the hidden, control and vulnerability, silence and tension. I am interested in the moment when a person stops playing a role and is left alone with themselves — without protection, without explanations, without words.
Negative allows us to get closer to this state.

It exposes the structure of the image, deprives it of its usual logic, and leaves room for the viewer's personal experience. In such an inverted world, unambiguity disappears, and the opportunity arises to feel what usually has no form.
My paintings are not stories or symbols in the literal sense.
They are visual fields of silence, pause, and inner movement. Spaces where you can slow down, remain in uncertainty, and allow yourself not to know—but to feel.
I see the negative as a language capable of holding contradictions without resolving them.
As a way of talking about fragility, transformation, and inner truth—not through explanation, but through experience.