ART

Between so many paintings, collages, and canvases at art school, I came to understand that the street was the place to exist, to be seen, to know we can be ourselves, in the middle of so much silencing and erasure.

It was from that same restlessness, the one that never stops asking who I am, that my first series was born, Transformador: a way of turning pain into image, of giving shape to everything I still didn't know how to name. Friends joke that chaos is my word, and in a way it's everyone's, if we look deep enough, it's there. Those early pieces carried that tone, almost chaotic, because they were never made to match anyone's couch. They're for whoever truly feels something, for whoever really loves art, not for an architect to pick out.

Years later, within the process of psychoanalysis, between daydreams and insights, I created a new series, finding another layer of who I am: Entrelinhas.

Psychoanalysis was, and still is, one of the greatest forces behind this process. It took me years to be able to say, in that room, the word "artist" about myself. Not because the work or the dedication was missing, but because there was an enormous gap between creating and letting myself be recognized for it. It was by understanding that gap, session by session, that I allowed myself to explore more, without so much fear of what each new piece might reveal about me.

It was that same desire to exist on the street, to be seen without asking permission, that led me to create my heart across the streets of São Paulo and a few other cities around Brazil. People asked me why the heart was so square, and I had never thought about it. According to that person, it looked like a heart that had to adapt to so much pain. And in a way, they were right. Every psychoanalytic process hurts, a professor of mine in grad school used to say that if you want the easy way, you should never go into analysis. That shape just came out of me that way. Still, it's a heart, with lines that pulse, that believe, that vibrate, that expand.

When I saw myself on the street, that heart became an artwork, one where you can see yourself inside a mirror, made entirely of spray paint, the material that made that street encounter possible. Seeing myself inside my own heart is the place to exist, to remember myself, who I am, what I'm looking for. And a reflection for everyone: you can see you.

I have collections that feel more contained, and others more chaotic. They represent moments, desires, impulses, and deep down they connect to the same restlessness that runs through everything I do: never stopping asking and looking for new answers. Making art has always been, for me, a way to transgress, to search, to know. And I've always been passionate about it.

From a pretty chaotic period, I discovered a little more about who I am, and gained clarity about staying close to the right people. That's what allows me to keep creating, keep finding myself, and keep resisting a world that insists on confusing us about our own existence.