In my art, I keep coming back to vanity, hustle, decay, and entropy—but this project took me to a new place. Like van Leeuwenhoek peering at "animalcules" in Berkelse meer, I've looked through a microscope and "found it no less wondrous than the universe of the great stars."

My journey began questioning what happens to art when left to natural processes. On ceramic tiles, I depicted various fungi, bacteria, and 17th-century pigment particles as they appear under electronic microscope. As time passes, the art undergoes transformation, gradually decomposing under microorganisms' influence.

Amidst this work, my daily routine shifted—calling family in Ukraine, reading war news, drawing, repeating. In empty spaces between fungi and bacteria, I recorded headlines, turning tiles into my diary. I pondered if art still holds significance during war, understanding that everything eventually decays.

Drawing microorganisms became therapeutic—they're "like invisible architects shaping our world, contributing to the flow of time and change." This work fuses war, eternity, and everyday life, while holding hope for peace and restoration as life continues even at the microscopic level.