About me

My grandparents used to have a small finca with a pool, on an overgrown hillside by the coast in Andalusia. I went there sometimes during summer vacation as a kid, together with them, my parents and my brothers. There was always at least one dog. The most adventurous part of the day was when we climbed down the old craggy staircase to the beach to collect these little shards from old tiles that had been sanded down by the patient tide of the sea. I still look for them whenever I’m at a beach, but I only keep the rare ones with the colored ornaments on the back. They tickle the same spot in my mind as an encounter with a ladybug or a squirrel. Sometimes, in the evenings, I lightened the atmosphere with a little clumsy Flamenco dance on the terrace. A consequence of my short-sighted generosity in gifting a lifetime supply of vouchers, whenever I felt like it was time to switch it up from my dinosaur paintings. There was such a warmth, calmness and familiarity in this place that should stay with me alongside all further destinations I would be about to travel to. Despite my outstanding performance in Spanish folk dance, I think my family and friends have always had a feeling about me becoming more of an artist one day.

I have always been deeply fascinated by the ability to draw realistically. I took on that journey, focusing on mastering proportions and details, especially in what I thought were epic, dramatically galloping horses that unfortunately didn’t make it past my puberty. I checked many of the obligatory boxes of an emerging artist, from animals over portraits to figurative drawing. Later, I started studying graphic design in Berlin, hoping to merge my creativity with something to make a living from. While I was adapting to a medically questionable level of daily screen time, I found my appreciation rather in color theory, the way contrast can induce emotions and shape perception, an antithesis itself to my so far monochromatic works.

Pretty parallel to moving out to the city, I got hired for my first remote job in graphic design that fluidly took over most of my free time. Catching me outside became as rare as finding a patterned tile on the beach. Although I stayed on my creative path, I felt like it wasn’t leading me to where I had pictured myself. I decided to study again, this time at the University of Arts in Berlin, and reconnect with my passion for painting. I have always held this almost naively optimistic belief that if I fully committed to art, things would fall into place. I quickly gained a lot more confidence and trust in experimenting with colors and exploring the interplay of abstract shapes and structured motifs, balancing chaos and control in my compositions. Going bigger with my canvases allowed me to shift my focus between how colors interact close up, how textures create depth and the bigger picture of the actual motif. I started experimenting with distortion to reshape spaces, making them feel more inviting, open, or dreamlike.

Much of my work is based on memory, how I first perceive a place or an encounter before the details fade with little time. There’s something so special about the very first glimpse of a new place before you adapt to it. It’s kind of ironic, creating these vibrant and almost oversaturated artworks while my window view in Berlin is providing me with the color palette of a sloth. But I think there’s a value in the contrast, the fascination and nostalgia of mediterranean and nature-driven sceneries that make it possible to evoke those strong emotions.

I’m beyond grateful for the support I have received, which allows me to experience painting as an intuitive and playful process for a living, transforming my travel experiences and childhood memories into a celebration of color, texture and the fine balance between spontaneity and intention, bleakness and warmth.

Thank you for being part of my journey.