These days I’m coming back in time — revisiting paintings that were created long ago, works that carry a different kind of weight simply because of where I was when I made them. There is something quietly profound about returning to your own past through the language you know best: paint and brushstroke.
That’s the interesting part. Working on every print individually, adding original strokes, means that no two end up exactly alike. The print becomes a dialogue between the past and the present — between the artist I was when the original was created and the artist I am now. In that sense, each piece becomes new and original in its own right, up to a point. It carries the memory of the first work while holding something entirely fresh within it.
It reminds me of music. A musician returns to the same piece again and again — the notes are the same, the structure unchanged, yet every performance carries a slightly different feeling, a different breath, a different inner state. Something is always added, even when nothing is changed on paper. Art, in any form, is never truly finished as long as its creator is still growing.
Why did I write this post? Because these are not just any prints I have been working on. These are the prints of my most favourite and most significant artworks — the ones that have meant the most to me across the years, the ones that shaped something essential in my creative path. Returning to them feels less like repetition and more like a reunion. Like sitting down with an old friend and discovering there is still so much left to say.
It’s a process that is equal parts nostalgic and alive. And I find myself looking forward to the studio every single day because of it.
Symphony of Flight
Silver print
Harmony in Grey
Silver print
