I have been sculpting for as long as I can remember. Until the age of two, I was a very restless child—until plasticine found its way into my hands. After that, everyone forgot about me, just as I forgot about everyone and everything else. In my first year at school, I had already chosen sculpture as my future profession, unlike the other boys who dreamed of becoming cosmonauts, sailors or Native American warriors. I kept sculpting, and the awareness of my vocation came with time. For me, the idea behind a composition comes first: not merely to sculpt a body, but to reveal through form the true soul of the subject—their essence, their hidden nature, their inner self. While sculpting, you sometimes begin to search within yourself. In any case, an artist’s work reflects their experiences and aspirations, preserving something of them in time. Sometimes you simply knead a piece of plasticine in your hands and something interesting suddenly appears—something worth keeping. Yet the result is far more rewarding when you set yourself a task and then search for the answer through sculptural form. Sculpture, as an art that exists in space, is a true union of form and concept. The path towards a finished work can be long. Some projects develop over years: something feels wrong, although you cannot yet understand exactly what it is. You turn the study around, search and reshape it. Beyond the concept, a sculpture must not only be harmonious but also precisely constructed. Even the position of a little finger must be exactly where it belongs—not a millimetre to the left or right. Here, and nowhere else. This applies to every detail, especially in a multi-figure composition. This is where mathematics enters the work. I am currently developing several projects that include the series Angels of the Apocalypse, Golgotha, Amazons and Kali Yuga. I feel a close connection to viewing the world through the lens of Eastern culture. I have travelled through India on many expeditions—from plein-air sessions, ashrams and yoga to the Rohtang Pass in the Himalayas, 4,700 metres above sea level in the north, and Kanyakumari, the southernmost point of the Indian peninsula. All of this provides a rich source of nourishment for my ideas and projects. These works are not about the past; through the “archaism of our time,” they reflect the present in which we live. My aim is to express my thoughts through form. Over the years, I have accumulated an entire suitcase of sketches, while small clay studies fill the shelves, and something new is born every time. Even without new ideas, two lifetimes would not be enough. Some things I will never sculpt and they will remain on paper, because the newest ideas always feel closer. An artist cannot help creating—in this sense, the artist is selfish, even if no one else needs the work. And the artist is always their own most demanding critic. My studio is wherever I am. There is always paper, a pencil and plasticine in my car. Even on a desert island, alongside the work of survival, I would draw in the sand with my finger.