I started decorating mirrors, having fallen in love with stained glass.

I had not long been a novice in the technique when, out of a need that I did not understand at the time, I paired for the first time the coloured glass in the mass with a piece of mirror. The result impressed me in a pleasant, but not necessarily explicable, way. I wasn't prepared, I didn't understand that those pieces of glass, by the way they manipulated light, surrounding my reflection, were trying to communicate, to encourage me to continue.

I discovered later (about 5 years after the first mirror) the book "Mirrors" written by Petru Creția, published in 1993 by Humanitas. That is how I found the explanation of my experiences in front of the mirror, the superb literary expression of the emotional complex it provokes in me, to which I try to direct my viewer.

"The plane mirror, a given mirror, is defined by the quality of the reflected image, but no less by its position, size, contour and framing, brightness and non-specific context."(p.13)

I set off on this adventure, feeling apprehensive at every step, all the more so because the road didn't exist. Even today I'm not sure it's more than a poor trail, trying to make its way through the mountains of established artistic modes of expression. It's a path built like braiding a lover's hair into a three-stranded ponytail. I hope I won't be considered fluffy when I say that I haven't yet decided on the beloved: mirror or stained glass. I can, however, tell you about the locks: One is the constant technical challenge of making complex cuts, choosing the right glass chromatically for the subject, fine joins in coherent lines, all together meant to attract or distract you, the viewer. The second strand is that of self-awareness, of determining the emotions that make me vibrate, on which I want to challenge you to reflect, convinced that whoever sees my works has been at least once tried by them, the different reactions of each one ensuring their dynamics and uniqueness. The third is that of study, of knowing the diversity of the modes of expression that come to life through this art. From one moment to the next, this strand became the one that determined the direction of the path. By going through technical, artistic and philosophical studies, I managed to understand my feelings in front of the mirror (I can assure you that during my work I see myself in the mirror many times) and to understand the attraction of this medium. But...

"In fact, no one sees themselves in mirrors as they are seen by others outside of them"(p.25)

Thus, my testimonies will only be about mirrors and their relationship with those they reflect. I will strive to give the reader the freedom to decipher the images, filtered through their own sensibilities. I will, however, allow myself, here and there, to contribute my own thoughts or quotations I deem appropriate. I must admit, when faced with a complete work, I, like you, remain on the same side of the mirror. And it's better to stay here, aware that trying to go beyond it risks shattering into the shards of my own reflection.

When asked what my profession is, I answer simply: stained glass. But if you look it up in the dictionary, you won't find it. And neither is the profession in the nomenclature of trades. Hence, perhaps, the questioner's puzzled look. I'll complete: luxury glazier. Did you smile? In times long forgotten, in Transylvanian lands it was called fenestrar - medieval stained glass. He was the artist, according to some, or the craftsman, according to others, who, by playing with light, using coloured glass, managed to tell a story and influence the atmosphere of the building that housed his work. I do much the same thing when, by surrounding you with light, shadow and colour, I try to introduce you to a story that inspires a good mood.

I confess, again, that at first I didn't quite understand what attracted me to mirrors decorated with stained-glass pastels, and in addition I made a common mistake: I looked for correspondence to see what price I could get by selling them. I guess my luck was that I found very few mosaic-decorated mirrors and none with stained glass at that time. I loved what I was doing and had detached myself from the material side. "I see when, how and for how much I sell them. Now I make them." I said to myself and went about my business. During the work the mirror reflected me, I... reflected mine and, as the eyes are the mirror of the soul, I began to realize the power of the cathoptric installation formed by endlessly reflected looks: "I am Portals" I thought happily.

"Without mirrors we would be blind to our own faces, and in them we see ourselves, to a degree that is hard to determine, with the eyes of others. But also with our own eyes, whose roots lie deep in our soul" (p.23)

Initially I drew flowers, many flowers, because, placed symmetrically or asymmetrically, they form familiar anchors and are, sentimentally speaking, synonymous with beauty. Most of us have flowers on our windowsills. At home, in addition to the flowers on my window, I have a stained glass mirror with floral motifs. I look into it when I leave, filling myself with light and colour, with optimism, before stepping into the unknown of a new day where nothing is more predictable than the unpredictable. As I have progressed, especially technically, there has been an increasing amount of encouragement from those who cross my studio threshold. And that made me happy. Have you ever looked in the mirror right after you've accomplished something (whatever that something might be)? It makes me want to fly. And because for understandable reasons I can't, I draw birds, wings, butterflies. That's also a kind of flying. Flight is not just a continuous flapping of wings, I imagine, but involves soaring, swooping, periods of graceful gliding. By understanding this I have been able to become honest, to describe moments of joy, sadness, melancholy, dreams and realities. You've lived them and you will live them again... all of them. "Looking in the mirror, we are always wondering something about ourselves, our doubt is looking for an unattainable certainty, always searching." (p.11)

In all my mirrors there is a place that I have kept for you. Please don't use it just to tame an unruly lock or straighten your tie. Let your reflection participate with the scenery, integrate, generating moments. Moments of communication with the self, moments of introspection or just generating a state of well-being. Those moments in which you will be the artist who completes my work, otherwise incomplete without you.

"Someone could see you

In a photo or portrait

Or in a movie

Or as a statue,

Be it as a nightingale,

but no one can tell you, since you weren't there at the time, that they saw you in a mirror." (p.86).