My work often begins with an image that arrives before language. It may appear as a sensation, an atmosphere, a dream, or a fleeting vision, something that asks to be translated into form. Painting becomes the space where I follow these intuitions, allowing them to unfold and reveal what they carry. Through this process, I return to a central question: how can something deeply felt, yet unseen, take on a visible presence?

Sound offers an important reference point in my practice. It has no fixed shape, yet it moves through the body and resonates on an emotional level. I am interested in whether painting can function in a similar way —How color, texture, and form might hold and transmit feeling, making the intangible gently perceptible.

I am drawn to the threshold between inner and outer worlds, where memory, grief, intuition, and transformation shape our experience of reality. Rather than constructing clear narratives, I create atmospheres or situations that invites into their own interior landscapes. Within the work, light and darkness, tension and stillness, presence and absence coexist, reflecting the shifting movement between shadow and illumination that accompanies many human experiences.

My process is both intuitive and reflective. Images emerge instinctively, and only through making do I begin to understand their meaning. Each work develops through a dialogue, an exchange between what appears and what is discovered. In this sense, painting becomes an act of translation: a way of giving form to emotional and psychological states that often resist articulation.

At the core of my practice are las profundidades—the depths. It allows me to approach what is uncertain, hidden, or difficult to name. Within this space, something can shift, open, or transform. I think of my work as a gesture toward shared experience: a place where personal inquiry becomes collective, and where others might encounter something of their own.