First I was drawing on the pillow cases, then on the door frames and walls. When I was in the primary school I was stealing the chalk and being inspired by my father philatelic collection I was making the first sculptures, portraits of some celebrities. Next, the art teacher, Mrs. Chivu discovers me, and takes me to the Children Club, how it was called back then. She has the initiative to talk to my parents and convince them to send me to an Arts School. During this time I discover my mother's uncle, Constantin Popescu (amateur painter) who fascinates me with drawing lessons (statics nature and portraits) and with the Russian painting’s albums (that's all you could find in the small town of Ramnicu Sarat). I'll be in 8th grade (14 years old) when I will go to the School of Arts in Iasi - Octav Bancila. I am learning from the graphic’s teacher Huhurez Zamfir (who dies after few years). Next year I am accepted in the Arts’ high school – the painting class, and I have the meeting of my life with the sculpture teacher Petru Ignat. At the end of 9th grade my life is radically changing, I discover new things, totally unknown to me until then. Everything changes and has a different meaning - books, work, art studio - I start to wish my own art studio although my teacher’s studio was like my own. In the 10th grade of the high school, thanks to professor Ignat, my colleagues and I, will organise and participate to the first sculpture exhibition. Meanwhile, during holidays I start building with my hands my own studio in Ramnicu Sarat. It’s still exists today on top of my parents’ house, with everything in: bed, work desk, tools’ desk, and terrace. I learn how to work for money, the teacher Ignat is introducing me to the art collectors from Iasi and I create pieces of arts in marble, granite or wood. Years passes and I am admitted to the Arts University George Enescu in Iasi, where I study with the teachers Simion Cristea and Dan Covataru. I continue to work in Ignat’s studio and a special relationship is connecting us. My work art is different, I am at a different level. I start to understand the importance of drawing in everything I do and I am learning a lot of techniques, vital to my activity. The teacher Ignat become sick and is coming less and less in the studio. I bring him in, time to time, but usually we go out for a coffee and discuss all kind of things and makes a lot of plans. Before he dies, he is giving me the studio with everything in it. I am getting married and somehow I split myself between the studio and family but unfortunately I am neglecting the Teacher. I am neglecting him, and despite the fact I know it, I am doing nothing to change the situation and visit him. My Teacher dies and shame on me I am not aware of the exact date. When I find out about his death I have a sense of guilty. It will follow a very stressful time because of the high maintenance cost of an art studio. The debts inherited from the Teacher are overwhelming.