Sometimes I chase myself, putting myself in my thousand knots. Threads that wrap me up and turn into black and desolate veins. Eyes that brush against me and whisper words to me that I have never told myself. I run, I run without ever falling, almost flying, and I see my naked body covered with a blanket that you gave me so long ago. The contrast is now solved. Everything is visible. I was born in a cloud above the distant hill.
My art is Freaky, stylish, anarchic, colourful, raw and dreamy, romantic, linear, and twisted. It’s contemporary with a touch, sometimes smooth, sometimes strong, weird, anarchic, and schizophrenic.