I was born in Plovdiv in 1985. In 2010, I graduated with a master's degree in "Poster and Visual Communication" at the National Academy of Arts, in the class of Prof. Ivan Gazdov and assistant Nikolay Mladenov. Since 2008 I have been a graphic designer, and subsequently the manager of Grafis Design Studio. I work on full advertising service projects for corporate clients and cultural institutes. 

After 15 years of work in the field, I felt that something was missing and I would not find it there, even though I loved my job. A surprise trip to Nice just before the first major closure due to the Covid-19 pandemic and a ripe readiness for new challenges gave impetus to searches away from the computer and the rigorous demands of design work.

I dedicated myself to pottery in order to develop new artistic skills away from the computer screen. I am absolutely passionate about it and how it teaches me humility, patience and attention to detail but at the same time allows me to experiment and find newer and newer ways of artistic expression which transform everyday objects. 

I started painting again because I had lost touch with myself. Among the stains, the lines, the stuck pieces of paper, I try to put myself back together - not the same as I was when I was drawing as a child, but also preserving this part of me, because it turned out to be vital to my full existence.

I love the sight of the old houses and the glints of light on their colourful plasterwork. The cracks and the ruin, but also the dream of what came before them. What excites me is the question of what home really is, and what makes people's homes of the past so inspiring that even half-destroyed they are more memorable than what we build now. My "models" carry the soul of a bygone time that I mourn without even having lived it. It's as if their peeling facades are old wrinkled skin. The fat black cables are the veins along which their pulse lazily beats. The dark windows are their squinting tired eyes. The silently closed gates - the lips through which one day, just before they become a heap of dust, they will take their last breath. I cannot prevent ruin and decay. They are inevitable. It reassures me that at least I saved them on a piece of paper and there they are as alive as in my memory.

I try a lot. Most pieces fail to preserve the primacy of the impression and are not expressive enough. I leave only those in which there is no fear or uncertainty. I know who they are because I have to come to a special sense of overcoming myself, in which there is no more hesitation, no more questions about who I am and what I am doing. I just am and I act. Drawing became a competition with myself. Overcoming the fear of failure. Because failure is only in never allowing yourself to try.