Within each of us lives a restless multitude. Dissonant voices, sudden impulses, desires that slip beyond the grip of reason. The Lunatics in this collection are not mere characters, they are manifestations of what we try to suppress, faces of our inner disorder.

Each figure appears as a visual eruption, a short circuit between gesture and psyche. Hands expanding to swallow the body, eyes that don’t observe but pierce through, clenched teeth holding back screams never spoken. There is no grace or composure here, only tension, expression, truth. In these distorted bodies, humanity reveals itself at its most raw: ridiculous, tragic, ferocious.

Laughter and terror coexist, two sides of the same contorted face. Some Lunatics make us laugh, others unsettle us. But all of them pose the same question: Who are you, when no one’s watching?

This art doesn’t soothe, it reveals. It digs deep, exposes, and forces us to confront the parts of ourselves we keep hidden.

This collection doesn’t build a narrative universe, it dismantles one. Each piece is a fragment, an isolated apparition, a vision that flares up and vanishes, leaving behind an image etched in the mind.

There is no coherence, because there is none in the human soul. And perhaps it is precisely in this fracture, in this controlled chaos, that the power of Lunatics resides.

To look at them is to stare into a cracked mirror. You see something of yourself, distorted, amplified, but real. And then you understand: they’re not mad. They’re familiar.

They’re not monsters.

They’re confessions.