About Me
I’ve been creating for as long as I can remember.
Growing up on an island, the beach was my first studio. I drew patterns in the sand, sculpted with my hands, and carved paths for the water to find its way through. I wasn’t thinking about making — I was playing, swimming, moving, completely carefree and absorbed in the moment.
Making things with my hands always felt natural. I was drawn to transformation — taking something simple and shaping it into something new, getting lost in the process until nothing else mattered. There was, and still is, a sense of joy and freedom in that feeling — a quiet kind of magic that asks only for presence.
When I moved from Venezuela to Canada as a teenager, everything changed: the language, the landscape, the people, the culture, even the weather. I had to accept that this unfamiliar place was now my home, whether I was ready or not. I left behind friends, family, and the small familiar things that once shaped my world. Much of what felt certain suddenly disappeared.
Creating, however, remained constant. It became my refuge — a place where I could lose myself in the moment and process what I didn’t yet have words for. Through making, I could discover, feel, release, and find comfort in the unknown. Working with my hands grounded me when everything around me felt uncertain. It gave me continuity, a quiet space where I could return to myself, untamed and free.
I later studied Environmental Design and began a career in Interior Design, shaping spaces with intention while working within the realities of budgets, timelines, and external expectations. Over time, the constraints began to outweigh the passion that first drew me to the field. Limitations, economic uncertainties, the pandemic, and shifting political landscapes made stability in the field increasingly difficult. Eventually, I found myself exhausted, disconnected, and pushing against an invisible wall.
Instinctively, I returned to my familiar refuge: making. I returned to playing, experimenting, and allowing myself to get lost in the process again — an act that has always brought me back to myself. I felt the familiar pull to create freely, to follow imagination without limits, and to become fully absorbed in the process.
Creating offers something that can be difficult to find: freedom. It asks for presence, patience, trust, and the humility to begin again and again. It is never about perfection, but about showing up fully and remaining open to what unfolds.
For me, art is a way to lose my bearings just enough to discover something true — a way to return to myself.
To those who feel drawn, as I do, to the things that move you, free you, and challenge you — the things that ask more of you but give something deeper in return — I hope you’ll stay a while.