I was born in Colombia and raised by my grandparents, in a home where beauty and adversity lived side by side. They had little formal education, yet carried a vast and instinctive creative world. With age, both became self-taught artists, shaping objects, painting, building, inventing with the simplicity of those who create out of necessity, intuition, and love. Growing up surrounded by their hands at work taught me that art is not an exception. It is a way of surviving, of understanding life, of transforming it.

This early landscape, filled with tenderness and quiet resilience, shaped my way of seeing the world. It taught me that even when life demands strength, there is always some form of light. My work comes from that place. Art became the space where I could breathe, process, heal, and reorganize everything I lived. Creating is my therapy, my way of stitching the invisible, of turning wounds into meaning, and meaning into matter.

My visual language is built around roses and thorns. Not as opposing symbols, but as inseparable truths. Every rose contains its thorns, every thorn protects the possibility of blooming. In my work, thorns are memory, passage, survival. Roses are breath, wonder, and transformation. This duality appears in hands that bloom, feet intertwined with branches, petals sculpted from reinvention, and objects that carry traces of journeys both real and emotional.

My personal story naturally surfaces through these forms. Countries I lived in, distances crossed, people loved, losses, reinventions, and the small revelations that shape a life. Each moment becomes a layer, a gesture, a symbol. My work does not aim to expose pain, but to reveal the beauty that emerges from navigating through it. It is an ongoing exercise in transformation, a way of rewriting my path with tenderness, courage, and truth.

In every piece, I try to rescue the idea that our journeys, with their thorns and their blooms — are poetic territories. That imperfection carries memory. That beauty can rise from what once seemed fractured. That art can be both a mirror and a seed.

My work is, above all, a reminder that transformation is always possible.