On Drawing
Drawing is the starting point of my visual exploration, the language through which I learned to deconstruct the perceptual world and reconstruct it from a personal perspective. In its simplest lines, I discovered infinite possibilities: a single vertical line can be just that, but it can also carry rhythm, texture, or sound. For me, drawing is not limited to imitating the observed world but transforming it.
My process began with rigorous academic instruction, using pencil and paper, progressing from simple geometric forms to the challenge of the human figure. From there, drawing became an exercise in freedom, a game between intuition and reason.
I started to see the world as a series of invisible lines, reimagining horizons, contours, and distances. Each stroke, far from being a mechanical gesture, is a visual translation of what I observe, a reinterpretation of reality.
Inspired by masters such as Holbein, Rembrandt, and Qi Baishi, I adopted an increasingly fluid and experimental approach. My strokes became looser, seeking essence rather than exact representation. When I draw, my eye and hand work in unison, allowing forms to emerge naturally, without the interference of rational thought. In this way, the line becomes a free and autonomous gesture, capable of both hiding and revealing at the same time.
Drawing also taught me the importance of chance, of the pleasure in execution, where building and destroying are equally valid acts. The ink stain, for example, ceased to be a mistake and became a mark, a fluid that gives form and life to what is represented. In this duality between the structured and the free, I found a space to explore the truth of forms and their ability to transcend the visible.
Ultimately, drawing is not just the form but the way of seeing the form, as Degas once said. It is a process that allows me to discover myself and the world through the stroke, at that threshold between representation and abstraction, between the rational and the sensitive.
