Reality, to me, will never be enough. It hasn’t been so far, and I doubt it will be in the future.
I’ve been a serial escapist for as long as I can remember. Retreating into worlds that felt more real than my own, that made more sense because I could see the underlying logic beneath it. My art reflects this aspect of myself: the need to leave behind ‘reality’ and dive into something that could, unfortunately, only exist in books or on the screen.
Early on, I developed this fear that I’d run out of worlds to flee into, or - in the more likely scenario - they will become just as bland and monotonous as my own. The only solution to what I considered a rather gigantic problem was to turn loose the universes rattling around around in my head. Fantastical realms, futuristic utopias, or galaxies trembling under the weight of cosmic horror - all of these were realized through sketches, stories and 3D Art. And my primary criteria for the creation of each one was always - would I want to live there?
My best work comes forth when I actively believe in the universe I have built, when I have faith that it exists somewhere out there, in the cosmos. Perhaps, in an alternate life, I do live there, and go through triumphs and failures as I do here. And my imagination is just the product of my mind reaching across the multiversal barrier, and sight-seeing through the eyes of the ‘other me’.
