Emilia Williams
From early childhood to the present, my artistic journey has unfolded like a canvas in progress—at times bold and defined, at times hesitant, yet always sincere. Each layer carries its own weight: some fading like old fresco traces, others alive with transparency, colour, and movement. My work is rooted in transformation, in the search for meaning through imperfection, and in the healing power of sincere expression.
Born in Bucharest in the mid-70s, my earliest years were shaped by my grandparents’ garden, workshop, and endless bedtime stories. Their world of gardening, winemaking, leatherwork, sewing, and woodcraft opened my eyes to textures, sounds, and colours—the kind of synaesthetic experiences that children live so purely, and that I continue to seek in my art today. They gave me freedom to explore, to chase butterflies along train tracks, to build collections of plants and insects, to immerse myself in discovery.
Education added new layers to this foundation. From calligraphy to philosophy, biology to painting, I explored many directions before studying law for seven years. Yet, destiny led me into the world of cinema—into set construction, props, and the joy of experimenting with materials, textures, and patinas. This became a new kind of canvas, one where my manual skills and curiosity could merge with imagination.
Travel, too, shaped my artistic lens. In the Middle East and Africa, I turned inward while also opening outward—finding colour, geometry, asymmetry, and nature as my companions. I began to see every artwork as both a discovery and a liberation: a way of marveling at the world as if seeing it anew.
Today, my practice is guided by a love for both decorative and functional art. Working with leather, in particular, connects me to rigor, rhythm, and memory—punching holes in my grandfather’s belt, now echoed in my own meticulous craftsmanship. Whether through painting, design objects, or workshops shared with others, I strive to create spaces of joy, exploration, and transformation.
My canvas is not complete; it is always becoming. Each line, each colour, each texture is both memory and possibility—an invitation to discover, to marvel, and to find beauty in imperfection.