For me, memory exists through sensation; what endures is not the event itself, but the imprint it leaves, the echo that shapes our inner landscapes.

I work with the memory of feelings, the traces that linger in the body long after the moment has passed.
At the core of my practice is an exploration of how revisiting a moment, even a traumatic one, can open pathways toward healing, resignification, and transformation.
For me, memory exists through sensation; what endures is not the event itself, but the imprint it leaves, the echo that shapes our inner landscapes. This is where my journey begins: returning to the places I need to feel again, to heal, to play, to reinvent.

My work is deeply aligned with the idea—echoed in Marcel Proust—that art has the power to fix an ephemeral experience, whether emotional or sensorial, into a lasting form. In that crystallization, time becomes visible, and what was fleeting gains permanence. This is the task I return to again and again: to translate the intangible into form, to make feeling endure.

My creative process is rooted in stillness -silence, prayer, meditation- a space where I can listen to what surfaces from within. From this place, the body leads the way. A sensation must travel through my belly and heart, rise to the mind and flow into the hand.

To create, I must be fully awake, alert to the quiet energies moving through me.

Drawing has become a central language in this process, immediate, visceral, as natural as breathing. It allows me to translate what is felt before it is fully understood.
Each material I work with, whether drawing, painting, or text, becomes a voice, a different way of expressing the same emotional truth.I embrace mistakes as part of this dialogue. They are not flaws to correct but honest traces of the journey, moments where vulnerability reveals itself.

Ultimately, my work is a confessional space, a continuous conversation between delicate intimacy and fierce inner discourse, each piece an offering shaped by the deep, living memory of feeling.