Photos
The ephemeral eternity of halides
Fine Arts
Photos. Books. Paintings. Illustrations. A bit of each Assemblage and Neo-Conceptual art.
My approach to Fine Arts
Art has been part of me since I was very young. One of my earliest memories is leafing through a book of Edward Hopper’s paintings that my mother showed me — full of quiet light and long silences. I didn’t understand it then, but something in those empty spaces made me feel less alone. That’s how it started.
I began with tempera and watercolours, then moved on to oils. That’s when my synaesthesia made itself known — the smell of turpentine would flood my vision with overwhelming black. I couldn’t paint. I couldn’t breathe. Acrylics gave me a way back in. With them, I found a new language — one that didn’t drown out my senses, but welcomed them.
At 13, discovering I had synaesthesia was like unlocking a door I didn’t know was closed. It changed how I saw the world — and how I painted it. I moved from Hopper’s calm loneliness to Kandinsky’s energy, to Pollock’s chaos, and somewhere in that mix, I found my own voice. Basquiat left a mark too, but I chose to explore nature’s abstractions — the grain of wood, the ripple of sand, the texture of stone — through paint and photography.
Words have always walked beside me. I’ve published four books of fiction, and I carry the influence of writers like Miller, Burroughs, Sabato, and Camus in both my texts and my art. But I create alone. I’ve tried workshops — rooms full of theory and noise — but they didn’t fit. I need silence. I need night. That’s where my ideas move freely, where solitude becomes fertile ground.
This website is where I let those threads come together. You’ll find fragments of what I do — photography, paintings, books, illustrations — not to impress, but to share. To offer a glimpse of how I see and feel the world. Not all my thoughts make it out of my hard drive, but the ones that do, I share with care.
Following links for more information.
Books
The inexplicable frenzy for written stories
Paintings
The crazy fascination with brushes and pencils
Illustrations
Black fingers and the magical chinese ink
Just so you know...
Fine art is where I feel most exposed — and most myself. Sometimes I write about it, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I share, sometimes I don’t. But if you’ve made it this far, thank you. I hope you find something here that resonates — even if it’s just a pause, a line, or a colour.