Here, I don’t merely take pictures – I seize moments of raw, unfiltered human nature that would otherwise remain hidden. The voluptuous contours and evocative expressions that I capture aren’t cheap theatrics or gratuitous allure; they’re nuanced fragments of my psyche. They are the riddles that dance at the crossroads of passion and taboo, love and shame, existence and abstraction.

It’s easy for people to label this work as mere titillation, unwilling to probe the art for what lies beneath the surface. They don’t realize that each work delves into the psychology of desire, and each hue bares the hypocrisy of human norms.

The allure of erotic art isn’t just in the act of making the invisible visible, but also in the excavation of desire. This art form – for it is an art, irrespective of the naysayers – probes deep into the recesses of longing and vulnerability. It beckons me into a winding exploration of not only the body but the soul that animates it.

It’s a deeply personal quest, driven by a desire so intense yet so inexplicable that it defies the limitations of language. This is a desire not to possess but to understand. To delve into the core of human complexities and surface with fragments of truth.

Though my art does find homes, tucked away in clandestine corners of private collectors, I don’t work for financial gratification. I create to fill an emotional abyss. I want the onlooker to meet their own reflection in my work, scrutinizing their taboos, prejudices, and fears until the art becomes a dialogue – a conversation between them and their concealed selves.