Statement

My artistic practice emerges from the need to map the liminal territories of human experience. I work in the space where the personal and the universal intertwine, where individual memory dialogues with collective archetypes.

I investigate the fragility of perception through series that function as visual diaries. Each work is a fragment of a larger narrative that explores identity in constant transformation, time as malleable material, and space as a container of emotions.

My work arises in a personal and uncertain space between silence and memory. Each piece is an attempt to approach that which barely persists: landscapes that the mind barely sustains, fragmented by the passage of time, like footprints fading in the sand. I don't seek to represent these memories, but to suggest their essence, their voids and the ethereal emotions that accompany them.

Drawing and painting are, for me, tools of introspection. The minimal strokes and abstract compositions reveal what words cannot capture: the fragility of memory and the ephemeral nature of the interior landscape. My artistic language is deliberately restrained, both in form and color. The restricted palette doesn't attempt to describe, but to resonate, evoking atmospheres of subtle intimacy that invite the viewer to fill the voids with their own memories.

In painting I use casein tempera for its deliberately slow process. This technique allows me to build delicate glazes, layer after layer, accentuating the sensation of transparency and depth on the work's surface. This paced and meditative rhythm reflects the very nature of memories: fragmented, incomplete and always in transformation. With this same purpose I use in drawing Chinese ink, ink washes and watercolor; through gestural stains, the nervous and incomplete strokes barely perceptible accentuate the depth and signal moments of maximum attention.

Silence is the common thread of my work. It is the space where memories breathe, the interval where the absent makes sense. Each line and each color stain acts as vestiges of something barely tangible, like echoes that reverberate from a past that never completely disappears.

My purpose is not to offer certainties, but to open doors to what is almost forgotten, to what flickers between the visible and the invisible. I invite the observer to encounter these fragments, not to reconstruct them, but to inhabit them in their imperfection and vulnerability.