It all began with an unexpected recognition.

As a child — in an era when books were the primary window to the world — my elementary school art teacher, Attila Bobály, a sculptor, noticed me. Not for my drawing skills, but because I always carried a book. He saw in me a curiosity, a receptiveness to knowledge that could one day grow into artistic sensitivity.

Over the years it became clear that drawing and sculpture were not merely interests, but inner impulses. Our student–teacher relationship deepened, and Attila founded an art circle where I could grow alongside other talented students. Art classes were not lessons; they were experiences — the joy of discovering line, form, light, and material.

The official art schools eventually did not consider me worthy of admission, yet my path still led toward art. I applied to the Landscape Architecture program at the University of Horticulture, where I received serious training in drawing. My instructor possessed exceptional artistic and pedagogical insight; I learned a great deal from her, even though the focus was on botanical illustration and descriptive geometry.

I was born in 1962, and drawing and sculpture have remained defining forces in my life ever since. For me, line, form, and light are not technical elements but parts of a personal language — a space of self‑expression where thought and emotion still belong solely to the human being.