"Psychodrama" Painting

There are paths that seem to be written before we even begin walking them. Mine, perhaps, was born from a contradiction.

At school, the subject I struggled with the most—alongside mathematics—was Art History. Back then, I didn’t draw, I didn’t paint, and I never visited museums. The subjects that truly fascinated me were Philosophy, History, and Literature. I was drawn to ideas, to questions, to the ways human beings try to make sense of their existence.

My only connection to color came through spray paint.

Together with a group of friends, I spent my time in abandoned schools, forgotten farmhouses, and on walls worn down by time. We were not searching for beauty, nor were we trying to leave something behind that would last forever. Painting was simply the most natural way I knew to quiet the noise of the world. It was a free, instinctive, almost meditative act. Only much later did I realize that those moments had been my very first genuine dialogue with art.

The name Antrum was born from that dialogue.

It comes from Latin and means cave, a direct reference to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. It is an image that has stayed with me throughout my life: people who see only shadows, convinced they are reality, until someone finds the courage to step outside and look beyond. I deeply identify with this metaphor. Those shadows represent the unique way each of us perceives the world—different for every individual. Through my work, I try to reveal my own vision.

My influences move across different worlds: Van Gogh’s emotional intensity, Basquiat’s raw energy, the direct visual language of street art, as well as philosophy, literature, and history, all of which continue to shape my imagination.

My paintings do not tell linear stories.

They are fragments of emotions, symbols, contrasts, and questions. I am interested in portraying the conflict between what we show the world and what we keep hidden within ourselves. Human beings are full of cracks, and I believe it is precisely those imperfections that make us authentic. That is why my figures rarely strive for perfection—I prefer them to feel alive.

There is another dimension that inevitably nourishes my artistic research.

In everyday life, I work in a field where rigor, precision, and formality are essential. It is an environment in which procedures, rules, and objectivity always come before emotions. Every decision must be carefully considered, every word measured, every path clearly defined.