I’m learning that there’s no perfect timing. Sometimes you just have to do it, put it out there, and not wait for the “exact” moment, because there is no such thing. You grow and learn when your mind is free from the obstacles we invent for ourselves. You just have to keep doing it.

This project was not born when I started photographing him, but when, in 2023, crying while we were alone in the car, I told him: “Dad, I'm not happy”. He replied, “Then what are you doing here? Never mind this, leave everything and pursue what makes you happy; that's the only thing that matters”.

I love the unknown of shooting on film. My light meter broke in remote Mongolia, so I had to guess my way through all the exposures. It made my favourite photos even more special, knowing I managed to capture those moments by sheer luck.

Throughout this period of study and personal discovery, I realized that the “errors” we carry as human beings in our own hands are the only marks that make us unique. I categorize this as direct experience in the development of a recognizable, unique, and powerful graphic identity.

You can have something in mind, but in reality everything keeps changing, and that it is necessary to flow with the project as it unfolds and takes shape. It has taught me to be a bit more persistent and more organized when working with photography.

I’ve learned about patience, both in myself and in others. I’ve always been a very impatient person, and this exercise of stopping for a moment to analyze what’s happening, no matter the stress or circumstances, has been one of the most revealing experiences of the past five years.

Lately, I’ve been focusing on illustrating still art, which is a personal representation of scenes made up of everyday objects in a distinctive style. I like to describe my work as a kind of “fever dream,” where common spaces or scenes are combined with fantastical situations.

I am exploring new ways of activating my relationship with clay, building new questions and infusing my experience with philosophy, psychosomatic research, and extensive reading. I seek to discover new positions from which to situate myself.

The creative process can be a roller coaster. Sometimes you can be extremely creative out of nowhere, and other times you may have all the tools and feel completely uninspired. When that happens to me, I try to keep working or taking photos regardless of my mood.

I noticed that I didn’t have any photos of myself, and that perhaps I hadn’t discovered my own shadow by avoiding looking at myself. I realized I had spent so much time observing those close to me that I had abandoned observing myself.

I have been working with photography for a long time, mainly creating self-portraits on film. It is an ongoing process rather than a closed project. A way of expressing myself and spending time alone with myself, of getting to know who I am, noticing my own beauty, and staying present in the moment.

I always try to remember to trust my intuition and apply that principle to all my decisions. Lately, I've become very aware of the dualities inherent in processes; they almost always bring both their light and dark sides.

Beyond the cables, I am also constantly drawn to photographing people. My style is very documentary and, I believe, also intimate. Many times, I don’t take a photograph just because it “looks nice”; I try to get to know people and their surroundings before portraying them.

Words like searching, identity, and transformation keep circling in my mind. I carry many intertwined emotions: nostalgia, love, loss, and that need to find beauty even in what hurts. I also reflect on who I am and what I want to express through my photographs.

Every time I intervene images or make collages, whether digital or analog, I learn the importance of letting go of perfection and expectations. I also relearn the importance of experimenting and allowing myself to be guided by creativity, feeling like a child without judgment, simply playing and exploring.

I’ve learned to observe more, to stay calm, to stop chasing the perfect image. Instead, I now observe until the scene accepts me. I also learned to stop thinking and simply feel. I unlearned the urgency of shooting just for the sake of shooting.

Photographs are like freezing a moment. For me, that’s the most beautiful thing about life: you never return to that exact moment twice, but through a photograph you can get close to the feeling you experienced then.

I think that as a designer I'm constantly overthinking how things should look, always trying to make them look as beautiful and cool as possible. But my car collection has been intuitive, easy, and accidental.

The images and visual productions I have made over the past year have focused on portraying violence through memory. They seek to depict, between landscapes and archives, a construction of identity shaped within a brutal environment.

Music inspires me deeply, listening to it and making it. I often think I don’t know which would be harder: losing my hearing or my sight. But it comforts me to know that if I went blind, I could still make music, and if I went deaf, I could still draw.