My painting emerges less from a preconceived image than from a process of discovery. I begin with an initial intention — an atmosphere, a relationship between forms, a field of tension, or a composition — allowing water, pigment, and time to take part in the construction of the image.

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I work with highly diluted acrylic paint on dampened surfaces, building successive layers. I intervene, pause, wait. This choice is neither a relinquishing of control nor a surrender to chance. What interests me is precisely this territory of coexistence: the dialogue between what I envision and what the painting reveals.

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This relationship is also conceptual. I do not use this process out of an aesthetic preference for stains or accidental effects, but because it materially embodies my understanding that existence is shaped between intention and unpredictability. The forms that emerge are not accidents; they are embraced, transformed, and become part of the language of the work.

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The images often evoke landscapes, horizons, moons, eclipses, and other celestial bodies, although they are not intended to represent existing places. The cosmos is not a subject, but a symbolic language — a territory through which to contemplate profoundly human experiences: silence, loss, transformation, passage.

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I am particularly drawn to that moment of indeterminacy when something has ceased to be what it was, yet has not become something else. It is within this interval — between intention and chance, permanence and transformation — that my painting takes place.