My eyes, hands, and intuition are at the cyclical service of creative energy, which, although I generate, it never belongs to me. The echoes of the collective womb flow through these creations.

In every stitch, brushstroke or writing, there is an intention that continues to be a community mirror.

My art is messy, unfinished and erratic like life itself.

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I create simply, as a revolutionary gesture of care and pleasure