Through collage, I've learned to loosen up a bit on my obsessive side and let myself be guided by the images, the textures, and even the mistakes. I've discovered that this technique allows me to disconnect and find a calm that I don't always achieve with other mediums.

In this age of technological reproduction, it's a challenge to try to do something truly different when the construction of images feeds on everything visual we consume daily. Many contemporary critics claim that no one creates anything original anymore; however, I've come to understand that proposing something not necessarily new can also be meaningful.

I'm reading "Art Work" by Sally Mann. It was a push after finishing my first photobook, "MADRE", and starting something new to keep moving forward with my creative life. “This is a book about how to get shit done.”

I told my girlfriend about this fascination I had with hands, and she started moving them to the rhythm of the song. That's when I had this "clarity" about the language of our bodies.

If a musician, a painter, or a film director needs the time necessary for an idea to evolve and mature, it shouldn't be any different in the case of photography. There's no rush, no race, no competition.

Lately, I've learned to leave room for exploration and improvisation. I feel that the most exciting things happen when I allow myself to flow and follow my instincts. At the same time, I have a very clear idea of ​​what I don't want to see in my images.

This project has evolved from my personal vision to a shared vision with another artist, fueled by our desire to explore and experiment together. For me, art is deeply connected to play and reviving that practice. 

Having role models in the creative world is essential. Those you admire and who inspire you to generate ideas you'd never considered, sometimes sparking life lessons you didn't even know you needed.

As an architect, my biggest challenge when taking photos is avoiding the habits I'm used to seeing in my profession. That's why I look for empty but perfect spaces and magazine-worthy compositions that I have imprinted in my mind. Although I sometimes fall into the very trap I want to avoid, I'm surprised by the results when I manage to steer clear of it.

Creativity is a path that is built individually, but also collectively and indirectly. It is crucial to remain humble and remember that differing opinions do not invalidate your work.

Walking among bees, I accompany my father on his field explorations; I rummage through the family album rescuing photographic images of the incipient work in beekeeping, and through writing I recover anecdotes from the memories of my parents and my sisters.

Whenever I work on a new exhibition, I learn a lot about how to analyze and view my own work, and I just exhibited some pieces that speak of nostalgia, that feeling we have when we see a photograph, and the feeling of wanting to return to that place or that moment. 

I got into the habit of going for walks with my camera, inviting my friends to be in the photos, and asking neighbors if they wanted to take a picture. Basically, anything that would motivate me to take a photo instead of waiting for inspiration to strike.

I unlearned the need to control everything. The film taught me that chance and intuition can be more powerful than precision. That an accident—in history or in life—can reveal a truth you didn't know you were looking for.

The first thing I thought was, "What story do I want to tell?" At first, I didn't know. My mind went blank, trying to force an idea that just wouldn't come. Over time, I understood that stories aren't something you search for; they appear when you least expect them, or sometimes they find you.

The concept sometimes veers toward pretension, and I deeply want to move away from that. Pretension is something that isn't. Reality, on the other hand, is what it is. A photograph of public transport holds many stories. Laughter. Tears. Despair. Haste. It can be everything to someone.

Every encounter, however small, unexpected, or significant, opens the possibility of creating shared universes. I believe that each person is a habitable planet with their own strength, rhythm, and language. I explore what happens when these worlds meet and collide.

There's something important about preserving an archive and reviewing it years after creating it. The process of digesting the images is crucial. Looking at them over the years and confirming that you still like them, and even like them more, is a superlative creative experience.

This painting carries a really warm energy. The four shapes represent my client’s four children, and the black form — like a woven net stretched across the canvas, unbreakable and strong — became a symbol of family bonds.