Lately I’ve been thinking about what it means to begin something before you feel ready.

“To dare is to lose one’s footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.”

— Søren Kierkegaard

There is always a small moment of suspension —before the work, before the decision, before the next step becomes visible.

Lately I’m trying to stay in that space a little longer. Long enough to understand what wants to emerge from it.

Some works begin exactly there. Between the jump and the landing.

And sometimes, so do life decisions.

Opening the studio as a registered practice wasn’t a single clear step. It felt more like acknowledging something that had already been happening quietly for years — giving structure to something that was already alive.

Around the same time, I started building a new website. Not just as a portfolio, but as a place where the process can live alongside finished works — where fragments, notes, experiments and finished pieces can coexist.

A place where my work can exist, travel, and speak.

In a way, none of this feels like a dramatic “new beginning”. More like adjusting the frame so the work can breathe differently.More space. More clarity. More intention.