22.10.2025-05.11.2025

The word ruminations (from Latin ruminare, “to chew over”) refers to persistent, recurring thoughts that circle around the same themes – often difficult or painful ones. By adding the word tender, I lift some of their weight. I turn my attention to what lingers in my mind – intrusive thoughts, yet tamed, invited to stay. In this way, I attempt to give form to what keeps returning, to draw images from the subconscious and observe their transformations. One of my earliest memories is a recurring nightmare that often appeared in childhood when I had a fever. Perhaps because I had yet to gain much life experience, or perhaps because, as a child, I had access to a purer form of primordial imagery, this dream was not figurative. I saw a bright, unblemished space being invaded by something impure, alien to its surroundings. That something, in a chaotic, uncontrollable way, would fill the entire space, awakening in me a nameless fear. The nightmare returned repeatedly, until, over time, it was supplanted  by more literary dreams – those that referred to specific experiences and emotions.

Since then, I have nurtured visions from my dreams – both those that emerge in sleep and those that arise involuntarily, belonging more to the inner world than the outer. Warm planets, hair, grids of dots – I collect them like words in my inner language of symbols, which I carry with me into the studio. Until now, I have worked in large formats, allowing me to construct expansive compositions of inner landscapes. This time, I extract individual elements from the whole – each given its own space, becoming an autonomous being. I wish to observe them closely, as if under a microscope, before they merge once more into a larger whole.