Ass out, naked and vulnerable. Letting life drag me here and there. I put no resisitance. This is it now. I know I need to just let myself feel the air as I drop all the way down. No restraints, no second guessing. Deep trust. Wow, it's so hard. But, okay. Surrendering once again. I let life and gravity have this go at me. Because I know. I know eventually the ground will come into focus, and that as I approach it the Earth will softly put out her hands to craddle my incoming thrust, to ease and redirect my exalted body, to sweetly lay me down on top the flowers, to hold me like a mother that welcomes their child back home. To hold me, like it always does, even when I fall.

Quick "finger sketching" on my phone notes.

Things are opening up.
I'm dusting all the windows.
So much accumulated silence.
Sometimes I am afraid the structure will fail
if the volume goes up.
That the glass will shatter and the foundations will crumble and fall,
after each new massive, freeing wave of sound.
But maybe the house is hurricane-resistant,
and after some embracing, it will remain strong enough
to endure the next storm.

From the Southeast I took with me its mountains.
The sight of fog like gliding through the rock. The infinite row of mounts fading into the background. The winding roads, the deathly cliffs, the rice paddies. But the color, that deep and faded blue, is what struck me the most.

Just recently I've been able to put it into words, although they weren't mine.
These are Rebecca Solnit's:

"The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the whole distance from the sun to us. It disperses among the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. (...) The blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance.
(...) For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go. For the blue is not in the place those miles away at the horizon, but in the atmospheric distance between you and the mountains. “Longing,” says the poet Robert Hass, “because desire is full of endless distances.” Blue is the color of longing for the distances you never arrive in..."
Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost.

Digital Photo.
Vietnam, 2020

Submerge/Emerge
No difference
Or all of it

Like looking into a mirror

Just be a wave in the ocean.

Can't decide which emotion it's showing.. I guess both?

Galicia, España. 2024

Snippet and preview of something that's brewing.




Acrylic on the back of a wood drawer.
Galicia, España. 2024.

Each drop set ablaze. Let the old emotions burn. I don't recognize him anymore.

Hold. While it slowly regenerates. Hold. And sparks of nature reintegrate. Hold. Blood and tissue clearing up, all the scars that still remained. I learned to hold myself.

I have never felt more seen.

There was something in their hands, or rather something in my hands touching their hands. I just couldn't explain it. Like colors all over.
I have to keep bringing my eyes back to the room, they would just float out past the window and get lost in the mountains. Snow-capped, full-blown winter, though it was all warmth inside. Let's stay here.

Patagonia, Argentina, 2023.

Something is coming. Dark clouds are blowing by. Clear sunlight beams from behind. Really, no clue.

There was this pinch right above his nose. He knew, it would make him seem a very serious man. Someone wise, rational, reasonable. In control.
Since the very beginning I could see something quite daunting there. An enigma, drawing me in. Like a question mark floating in that space between his eyebrows. I would frown in response as I focused harder and harder on it.
It was only when I realized what it was holding in place, what it was trying to hide, that I turned down to look at his eyes, and found myself staring at the face of a child.


Monocopies on graphic ink.
Chubut, Argentina. 2024.

Borders fade to be retraced.


Self-portrait on a life recurrent feeling.
Ink on paper.
Portugal, 2022.

Flowering Mother Earth. Release and Fall.
What are we planting anyway?



Watercolor 20 x 30cm

"You're being so obvious... I told you to be discreet. Oh my Gxd, you're staring! Please stop."

Merge together, share some bark

Now, what do you see?

All creation blazes out of pink flowers.


This piece is part of the "Arts And W3B artists' onboarding workshop" collection, as the result of Newtro's March 2024 onboarding workshop to web3 for Latin American artists.

There was something in me that had shifted already. I couldn't see it directly, it was really through the eyes of that other one. But there was brilliance there. Just bright blue skies.

Small fragment of a 0,70 x 1,40m abstract acrylyc painting that I'll be soon sharing 1:1 though Objkt.

Eyes protruding, fire within, and foamy ocean water.


Small fragment of a 0,70 x 1,40m abstract acrylyc painting that I'll be soon sharing 1:1 though Objkt.

Blazing color, grasping for air, music through movement.

Small fragment of a 0,70 x 1,40m abstract acrylyc painting that I'll be soon sharing 1:1 though Objkt.