Survival

I paint from what hurts, from what cuts through me, but also from what holds me together.

 

I am not interested in beautifying reality, but in revealing it as it is: chaotic, fragile, imperfect, full of contradictions.

 

Through art, I have been able to reinterpret my wounds, to understand myself, to forgive myself. And in that process, I discovered that what is most personal often turns out to be the most collective.

 

I am not looking to give answers but to open questions. I want the viewer to encounter my work through the body, through emotion and intuition. I want them to feel something, even if they cannot explain it. To see themselves reflected in a reversed word, a messy stroke, a color that breaks in like a scream or a sigh.

 

For me, creating is an act of resistance, tenderness, and truth. Art has saved me and brought me back to myself many times. That is why I share it. Because in that offering there is connection, resonance, and possibility. If my work manages to accompany, unsettle, comfort, or awaken something in someone, then it no longer belongs to me alone.