The Call of the Mountain

Sometimes I wonder if, in another life, I was a mountain myself.
Not a climber. Not a traveler. A mountain.

My love for the mountains is not just admiration—it is longing, recognition, and homecoming. When I look at them, I cry.
Not from sadness, but from something deeper. From the echo of countless lives lived before, from something ancient that stirs in the soul.

This gallery is a tribute to that eternal bond.

The mountains in my art are not only geological forms.
They are guardians of memory, altars of solitude, temples of resilience.

I don’t just paint what I see—I paint what the mountain makes me feel:
its rough skin, its ancient wisdom, its brutal kindness.

These artworks are not landscapes.
They are conversations with the Earth, whispered across the canvas.

Let this gallery be your path to the peaks.
Let it remind you, as it reminds me, that the mountain is not out there.
The mountain is inside us.