I was born in Pécs (1958) and even today I live here. I spent my childhood on a mining district relatively distant from the city, close to the forest of Mount Mecsek, which was at the end of our garden. Maybe these circumstances have contributed to a certain wildness in me, which I preserved instinctively in the course of the times.
The person who valued this characteristic of mine mostly was my grandfather. He protected me even when I was undeserving of this. This has made most deep impressions in me. And his greatness - although he was only a plain miner – is ideal for me until today. I remember that my father told me – I was very young then –: „You know, What Jove may do, the ox may not.” Then I answered without hesitation: I am Jove, and you are the ox. I did not grasp what I had really said then. I know it already today, that i did not want to offend him, but – though it sounds oddly - to free him from conventions.
In my wayward boyhood I wrote poems with the joy of the forbidden fruit (my environment did not appreciate things like this too much) when I was a high school student. I remember the following poem clearly even now:
I see signs of your sadness on your face,
and I hope you don’t want to kill the camels?
Come, sit behind me, let's go,
and they are surprised, the little animals,
because we are throwing white bread
somewhere behind the desert.
I am not sure that I knew then, what this whole thing meant, but I felt, that it is something new, like some kind of an inner light, which looms up only slowly before us. I did not talk about this for a long time. When I was eighteen years old, my interest turned towards Chinese and Japanese poetry and painting, During thet time I got acquainted with the poems of Li Taj-po, Tu Fu and Po Csü- ji, which was very enlightening on me. Later I discovered the specific message of the Japanese Noh Theatre’s, the Japanese tea ceremony and the flower arrangement’s (Ikebana).
With this I have already pointed out what kind of direction I was looking for the artistic inspiration, the spirit, that exceeds the schemes. All this does not mean that I did not have Hungarian ideals. Such ideal was the poet Sándor Weöres (see his philosophical work: A guide to completeness) and through him Béla Hamvas or among the contemporaries poets Judit Kemenczky, who was born in 1948, and she was the first who translated some Noh Plays into Hungarian.