At the age of three, barely able to hold a pencil, I started drawing… I never stopped.
I have been expressing myself through art my entire life. When I was just five years old, my family left Cuba, commencing a lifetime of migration and hyphenation. This feeling of impermanence and non-identity, at home everywhere but not fully belonging anywhere became my way of life. This dichotomy of melancholy and ease, radical yet classical, underlies my creations. All my work carries a message- social justice, spirituality, intellect; a passionate need to express inarticulate feelings.
I start preparing to work the night before I actually begin. I commence with clear idea of the message and the overall look of the piece. Throughout the night, my mind begins the work and sometimes expands on it. I start painting very early in the morning, with my mind in peace and fresh, dressed entirely in black. As a priest prepares for mass, I prepare to work. I start the music, which is classical adagios and always the same, and within minutes I no longer exist in this world, I do not hear anything and I don’t stop until either the work or my physical being demands it. I paint completely alone, in the silence of my mind.
I paint because I breathe. I pour myself entirely on the canvas until there is nothing left of me, yet when I “return”, I am reborn. I hope to my last day to have paint on my face and hands, to be able to smell the peculiar smell of the oils and my eyes to see color that surrounds me, inside and out.
The impetus of my work is my need to communicate and share a common human experience. I talk, feel and hopefully touch, through art. My work is my word and my truth.