Choice is an act of responsibility.

You look at several of your creations, each of which is breathing, and you realize that only one will survive.

Each option is like a possible fate, and to reject them is to accept a loss.

But in art, the choice is inevitable: you can't go down all the roads at once.

I look at the work from all sides, in different light, from far and near.

Sometimes the solution is obvious: one form suddenly becomes the center, attracts attention.

Sometimes, on the contrary, everything seems equal, and then I leave them for a while.

I turn away, come back later.

The sculpture itself will tell you which one is real.

There is only one criterion: honesty.

The real form sounds like it has always existed.

There is nothing superfluous in it, and it does not require proof.

It can only be accepted.

When the decision is made, a sense of clarity sets in.

All the hesitations go away, there remains calmness and confidence: now you can bring the chosen image to the end.

I'm not throwing out other options — they're part of the path, traces of reflection, but the heart already has one shape.

Then the painstaking work begins — refinement, balancing, and the search for plastic purity.

The next stage is to edit the molding of the selected option, where the maturity of the form is born.

Art is the ability to give up excess in order to leave one thing alive.