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Salterra is a sculptural canvas shaped by evaporation, sediment, and silence — a textured wall piece where matter becomes memory, and color rises from within.
Formed by hand from layers of recycled paper clay and mineral pigments, its pale fractured surface evokes the quiet vastness of dried salt lakes — where wind etches the land and stillness crystallizes into form. Shades of bone white and dusty beige are interrupted by subtle flashes of oxidized… blue, like mineral veins surfacing through geological calm.
This is not a painting in the traditional sense, but a terrain. It offers no narrative, only presence. Salterra hovers between erosion and emergence, between surface and echo — a contemplative field where texture becomes time and stillness speaks.
Part of the Mur Vitae collection, it reflects the quiet poetics of earthborn matter — raw, slow, and deeply alive. A fragment of silence, reimagined.
I was born in a city that no longer exists as it was. Mariupol — once sea and sand, now ash and absence. Yet even what disappears leaves its trace. That trace is what I follow. I live now in Zurich, but my hands still carry the earth of elsewhere. I grind straw, soil, bark, ash into matter that resists beauty. These are not materials chosen—they are what remains. I am close to Arte Povera, because in the poverty of matter lies genius: the truth that nothing is too small to hold memory. I am close to wabi-sabi, because time itself writes through imperfection, through cracks, through silence. My vessels and wall pieces are not objects. They are witnesses. Companions of dust and silence. Fragile, yet enduring. They stay when all else is gone.