I spent this weekend finalizing the details for my latest work, “Angel of Ecstasy.” I’ve been working on this series for a few weeks now, and I’ve loved every minute of it. But the past few days have really made me reflect on a few things.

When we enter any creative industry, all we want to do is make art,  that’s the passion that drives us. But along the way, we end up doing so many other things out of necessity. If we have transferable skills, we can commercialize them – like working as a commercial photographer, delivering someone else’s vision. They might not have your technical expertise or creative eye, but they need your skillset.

And if you don’t have those immediately transferable skills? You end up wearing all the hats – marketer, social media manager, SEO expert, web developer – the list goes on. The good thing is, you end up with such a diverse set of skills. 

The bad thing? Sometimes, you just want to make your art.

Here are some casting shots and a preview of maybe my next series… 

Creativity isn’t always a straight line. Back in university, one of my lecturers said to me, “Achieving something by happy accident isn’t a skill.” And when it comes to technical aspects of photography — lighting, composition, camera operation — that’s true. Those are skills you learn and refine.

But when it comes to creativity, it’s different. Some of the most compelling work I’ve seen — and some of the most interesting pieces I’ve made — were born out of happy accidents. Those moments when you’re working with new people for the first time, just experimenting or combining techniques, something unexpected happens that you couldn’t have planned.

Right now, I’m working on a series that blends photography, video, painting, and AI — no strict plan, just letting things evolve. It’s chaotic, it’s unpredictable, and it’s exactly what I need. Today, that process led to ‘Ola in My Bathroom.’ It wasn’t what I set out to make, but it became exactly what it needed to be.

Creativity — it thrives on experimentation, on embracing the unexpected happy accidents, and allowing those accidents to become something amazing.

With my first art series, I wanted to create something that stayed true to what I love: raw, beautiful sexual imagery that makes people feel something. I wanted the work to excite people. But I also wanted to push beyond traditional mediums—combining this visual intensity with new methods of creating art across video, AI, and paint, all together through my usually unfiltered, instinctive style of photography.

This series became a base—a starting point. From there, I began branching out, taking certain elements of the original images and expanding them into layered works using paint and AI-generated video. In doing so, I found myself creating the beginnings of a fantasy world: one that’s vivid, sensual, and totally mine.

What excites me most is the idea of expanding this further—building an entire fantasy world through art. A world that is just pure imagination, but grounded in reality through my own photography and creative execution. This process, for me, is about more than just making art. It’s about manifesting something that starts as a wild, exciting thought in your head and slowly becomes real. It’s about vision. About holding something powerful in your mind—and through sheer creative force, making it tangible.

The underlying theme here is manifestation. You start with desire, with a fantasy that excites you, and then you build it. You create it. You bring it into reality. That, to me, is the real magic of art.

Begin again.

I stepped away for a while—not because I stopped being an artist, but because I needed to remember why I make art in the first place. The noise got too loud. The pressure to post, to be seen, to fit in—it took over. And in all that, I lost the feeling that brought me to this in the first place: love.

Love for beauty. For emotion. For capturing a moment and turning it into something that lives beyond it.

Being in Berlin changed everything. It’s a city that holds so much—pain, power, freedom, rebellion. You feel it in the streets, in the people, in the silence between sounds. History lives here, and so does the present—loud, chaotic, electric.

Artists here create like no one’s watching. And maybe that’s what I needed to see. That art doesn’t have to be perfect, or popular. It just has to be true.

Berlin reminded me that art isn’t something I do. It’s something I am.

So now, I’m just making. No rules. No pressure. I’m mixing photography with painting, adding layers with video and AI. I don’t know where it’s all going, and I don’t care. The process feels good. It feels honest.

I still get frustrated with platforms like Instagram, where art gets censored or buried. But I’m done letting that stop me. I’ll find new ways. I’ll keep showing up. I’ll keep sharing.

Because making art matters. It matters to me. And if it reaches even one person in a real way—that’s enough.

This isn’t about going back. It’s about becoming. Becoming the kind of artist—and person—I’ve always wanted to be: free, fearless, and full of feeling.

If you’re here reading this, thank you. I hope what I make connects with you. I hope it makes you feel something. That’s the whole point.

– Adam