My yellow brick road brings me through photography, poetry, drawing and…aberrations.

I’m attracted by the Gothic culture, the bizarre, grotesque and the beauty of a pure soul. Also, I like the parallel world where the words can bring you, where the green castle shines. The fascination for the inner world is expressed though symbols, space and time, imaginary beings, colors, twisted feelings as a rift between the real world out there and the fantastic inside my head.

Now let’s come back to the ground…I’m from Romania, a country with beautiful landscapes and beautiful people where literally everything is possible (if you check our politics…and that’s kind of sad). We all have that one friend that does not say what you want to hear, that doesn’t do something because that’s how it’s done or because it’s supposed to be that way,  that  stands for their beliefs..I somehow became that person. I consider myself a normal person as I’ve mastered the art of not always saying my mind aka keeping my mouth shot, I also think this destroyed me a little on the inside but I’ll survive. I grew up in a normal family, where both parents worked and my grandmother helped them raising the only child. From her I have the love for vintage, classic and the simple things. My grandmother (father’s side) and my father were party animals, they both liked to dance until the morning, each in their time. That blood flows also in my veins and the lyrics remained, only more dramatic, more dark and everything above. I’m not a dramatic person, but I could be, I believe every woman can be as dramatic as hell if she wants to. I think my writing has something to do with immortality and leaving something behind. In my teenage years I was fascinated by vampires and their ongoing life and all their stories, never ending stories; this wind was one that shaped me and gave me my identity.

My father was a photographer, did I mention that? –  Guess where the photography fascination comes from. I was surprised to find out that other persons have only a few pictures from their childhood, and they had to go to a photographer to have them (which makes sense for a post communist country). I  want my pictures to have a soul, to tell a story, to capture something that can be thorn out of context and be the essence only by itself…in other words I want to take nice photos.

Oh the drawing…that’s just me, I don’t have any background for that. I was doing it since forever until I didn’t do it at all. At one point I just stopped, I didn’t feel the urge for it anymore but it stayed always in my mind, like a shadow crawling beneath my back, never really letting go. I just know I’m not done with the drawing yet, to be continued…


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