I was born in 1986, in Elbasan, Albania. Growing up in a country preparing for drastic political changes leaves heavy drops in your memory—even when you experience it all unconsciously. As a child, you absorb everything unfiltered, especially when you belong to a politically persecuted family—something that persisted for many years after the fall of the dictatorship. And this was no longer imposed by the regime itself, but rooted in the mindset of a society suddenly speaking openly after a seismic political shift.

The history of my ancestors is rooted in the lives of shepherds and wool-production workers who lived between the mountain lines of southern Albania and northern Greece. Apart from being shepherds, they were known for producing knitted woollen goods and carpets, traditionally called qilim in Albanian. These objects were both functional and symbolic—as I think today, they are layers of time, memory, and labor woven into form.

I inherited these elements from my family and grew up speaking two languages simultaneously: Albanian and Vlach. The latter is my family’s native tongue—also known as Aromanian—an Eastern Romance language that evolved from Latin, once spoken in the Balkans during the Roman Empire. This duality shaped my early perception of identity, belonging, and the fragility of expression.

In 2000, I began studying drawing and painting at Elbasan’s artistic high school. After four years, I was awarded an Art Diploma. In 2004, I applied to the Academy of Fine Arts in Tirana. I wasn’t accepted, and shortly after, I left Albania.

I moved to Athens, and a year later, in 2006, I began studying at the Athens School of Fine Arts. At the end of my studies, I was awarded an Integrated Master’s degree in painting, sculpture, stage design, and photography. While living in Athens, I immersed myself in diverse artistic opportunities—exhibitions, workshops, festivals, teaching, and art-political activism. I worked for the National Opera of Greece as a scenic designer and collaborated with various artists in stage design and theater performances. To support myself, I also worked in the hospitality sector.

Living in Athens was a synthesis of experiences that deeply enriched my artistic practice. Working as an art teacher, participating in exhibitions, and collaborating with artists from different disciplines broadened my perspective and helped me initiate an independent, philosophical trajectory. Each encounter, each challenge, contributed to a slow crystallization of my inner language—visually and conceptually.

In 2014, I moved to Edinburgh, Scotland. Initially, I worked as a kitchen chef, creating art whenever time allowed. In 2016, I applied for a second master’s degree at the University of Dundee, in the northern regions of Scotland. There, I studied Art, Society, and Publics, combining artistic practice with creative writing modules. This period marked a significant shift in the evolution of my work. Since then, my interest in concepts, research, and writing has only grown.

Living in Scotland, I found myself coordinating open calls for artists, directing contemporary art-related projects, assisting in sculpture studios, and writing for collective exhibitions of emerging artists—all while continuing my work as a kitchen chef. It was a life between practical survival and deep intellectual and creative cultivation.

In the autumn of 2018, I decided to return to my hometown. Since then, I’ve been developing ideas for cultural and art-related projects. Beyond solo and collective exhibitions and collaborations in film production, my most significant experience remains the realization of a sculptural installation titled The Present Past. This work culminated in an exhibition at the former political prison of Spaç in Albania in 2024—the same place where my grandfather was imprisoned between 1967 and 1976. For me, this wasn’t just an artwork—it was a homecoming through the corridors of inherited trauma, memory, and transformation.

Through this process of self-coagulation, I find joy in exploring and observing the world from various angles, always engaging with artistic authenticity and interpretation. I often write in my notebooks—as a self-reflective ritual, a vessel for memory, philosophical inquiry, and critique—striving to incorporate language into my practice as another creative material.

I would openly place myself as a Jungian at heart, continuously navigating the symbolic landscapes of alchemy, psychoanalysis, and philosophy. At present, I am simply trying to share my work with the world—even though it often feels like a demanding journey.