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In 2022, my work reached New York — not physically, but through an image.
I participated in an exhibition organized by See.Me Gallery, where a photograph of one of my pieces — a claw — was displayed on a digital screen for two weeks, alongside works by other international artists.
It was not a monumental presence. It was not a solo show, nor a physical installation. I am fully aware of that. My object was there as a photograph, part of a rotating digital selection. And yet, the gesture mattered to me.
The claw is a symbol I return to often — instinct, defense, rawness, survival. To see it accepted and shown in New York, even in this mediated form, felt like a quiet validation. It meant that someone, somewhere far from my studio, looked at my work and decided it was worthy of being included in that visual conversation.
There is something strangely poetic about a claw — an object that speaks of touch, of presence, of materiality — being translated into pure image, into light on a screen. It becomes something else, yet it still carries its tension.
No, it was not “a big thing” in the traditional sense. But it was a door slightly opened. A small bridge extended across distance. And I allowed myself to feel joy for that.
Because sometimes recognition does not have to be grand to be meaningful. Sometimes it is enough to know that your work traveled further than you did — and that it was seen.