Come see my work in person and meet me at ART EXPO GRAZ, 24–26 April

What happens when these moments step onto a gallery wall?

There is a certain art to sitting quietly at Café Promenade in Graz, letting a perfectly good coffee go cold because you are too busy watching the world.

I have a confession to make: I am a professional thief of moments. I collect the exact slope of a commuter’s shoulders, the hurried sweep of a coat crossing the Hauptplatz, and the way the Graz sunlight plays against the old buildings.

Whether people call me an illustrator or an artist doesn't matter much to me. Mostly, I just say I paint. I make art. Sometimes that art leans toward a specific story, and sometimes it simply holds a feeling long enough for you to step inside it.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how fragile those distinctions really are. The moment you try to paint not only what a place looks like, but how it feels to stand inside it, the borders begin to blur. Observation becomes atmosphere. Narrative becomes mood. And somewhere in that in-between space, I find myself asking a fun, slightly dangerous question: what happens when these private observations leave my studio and hit a gallery wall?

The Line Between Illustration and Painting

The art world loves its language. Labels can be helpful — they give people a way to orient themselves, to find a door into a work.

But those labels can also be too tidy for the way images actually live today.

According to Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries, illustration is usually understood as an image that explains or accompanies something, while fine art is made to be appreciated for its beauty and presence in itself. That distinction sounds clear on paper, but in practice the line between them often feels far less fixed.

In practice, the relationship is more intertwined. Many contemporary painters build narrative; many illustrators create images that stand fully on their own. And for viewers, the experience is often the same: an image either holds you, or it doesn’t — regardless of category.

For me, the question isn’t “what is it?” but what does it do?

Does the work guide you toward a specific meaning? Or does it stay open, inviting you to bring your own memory, mood, and interpretation?

Both are valid. Both can be powerful. And sometimes the most interesting work is exactly the one that refuses to choose only one mode.

Graz, Held for a Moment

When I painted the Rooftops and Footsteps of Graz, I was not simply documenting a scene. I was trying to catch what I can only describe as the city’s rhythm — the mix of heavy, historic architecture and the quick, modern movement of people living their everyday lives: caffeinated, distracted, beautifully human.

A city is not only buildings.
A city is how it breathes.

And when you paint how something breathes, the old boundaries soften. A “drawing” can become atmosphere. A “scene” can become presence.

Not the Whole Story — Yet

Usually, this is the part of the newsletter where an artist shows the finished work in a neat, perfect image. I’m not going to do that today.

Seeing a painting on a small phone screen flattens what matters most to me — the surface, the scale, the quiet layers of decisions. So today, I’m offering you fragments instead.

I want you to notice the energy of pencil strokes. The soft negotiations between colours. The way texture builds slowly, like a thought becoming clear.

These details are whispers.
I’m saving the full conversation for the wall.

A Weekend at Seifenfabrik, Graz

And that brings me to the part where I stop whispering and simply invite You:

From 24–26 April 2026, I’ll be exhibiting at ART EXPO GRAZ at the Seifenfabrik, showing two works alongside 200+ artists from around the world. Opening Night is 24th of April at 7 pm.

Step away from your screen for the weekend. Come stand in front of the works in person. Look at the people inside the paintings, and then look at the people in the room. Notice what changes when you can see the scale, the surface, the details you cannot scroll past.

It’s the kind of weekend where you walk in “just to look” — and leave with a new favourite artist in your mind.

And if you feel like it, tell me what you experience:
Do the pieces feel like a story? A memory? A mood?
Do they stay open — or do they become strangely specific?

I’ll be there — sketchbook likely in hand. If you come, please say hello. I’ll probably be the one still watching the room.

The Event: ART EXPO GRAZ

  1. The Location: Seifenfabrik, Graz

  2. The Dates: 24 – 26 April 2026

  3. The Details: Visit the Art Expo Website

  4. Buy Tickets: HERE


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Where Do We Find Kindness When It Feels Thin?