About

I was born in South America and lived there until I was 24 years old. I attended the University of Architecture and Urban Planning in Sao Paulo and then I moved here to graduate as a fashion designer in Florence. The artistic passion has always been inside me but I didn’t have the right address. Back home in Brazil I attended other courses as a shoe designer at Anhembi Morumbi University … well, I liked to draw, and while I was doing it, fights between my parents reigned at my house. Here, this is the question, that is, the woman, and the woman in question was my mother.

My mother, like many women, suffered so much, was perhaps loved in the wrong way, was unhappy and fearful, not very rebellious, in fact, not at all rebellious, without courage to do what she had in her head, too good, too good to do all acudire us but unfortunately little loved by her husband. Unloved … already. Now, if the matter was my mother first, now the point is women, without exception. The little love or disaffection that on the other hand only hurts us prevents us from being ourselves, which takes away our freedom and makes us become without identity. But who were we before? I say first, much earlier?

I want to be light, so I use the phrase “little loved” or “wrongly loved” so as not to open a speech on violence against women, and in the end, my mother was increasingly sad and her desire to paint vanished, her stomach it closed more every day and ate almost nothing. He said he had no appetite but the fact is that he couldn’t feed himself because he didn’t accept that life. The refusal of food was the only control, the only thing that could decide, if for all the rest his opinion didn’t count anything, what he thought or his desires, to decide the quantity of food and if to ingest it or not, it was a important gesture in his mind, was his being master of herself. By now anorexic and with 35 kilos one day, she who never went out alone, who claimed nothing, never a luxury, never a vacation, went to sleep in a hotel. He brought with him a pen and paper, a beautiful suit, the damned medicines he used to take for depression (another bad thing I’ll talk about later) and … a little alcohol. I think we can imagine what happened, needless to say more.

I couldn’t save her but I saved myself. (…)

My desire is to succeed, in my oil illustrations (I don’t consider myself an academic painter) to take into consideration joys and sorrows not only of my mother but of all women, with love and (why not?), With the my madness. I only wish we really stopped being prey to become hunters of our dreams, ideals, goals, anything that is vital for us like air! Be zebra only when needed and be a fellini animal when the moment asks. Really use these two sides to never be half-loved again, to not always have to obey or accept without wondering if it’s okay or not, not to rebel and never let a dish or a glass fly when you can’t do it anymore because we are tired of being treated with violence. Serve and never feel thanked, suffer and suffer, serve and serve, for a lifetime and not be considered as a woman must be, or like a goddess, but we are not just a goddess, we are strong and sensitive, mothers , wife, females, fools, saints, warriors, parents, shamans, witches and … stop! In addition to witches, I would also put devils, fools, stings, lesbians, perverts, … savages! Here’s what we were before, much earlier! And I would also add that the individual who is capable of understanding wild nature in his partner finds happiness and infinite pleasure.

I will continue to paint my disobedience, my madness, my hysterical utopia in the name of all of us but also in my mother’s!

” The most important thing is to resist, to insist on your creative life, your loneliness, your future and life itself. Resist, because this is the promise of wild nature! ”

Clarissa Pinkola

” Life is growth, and the more we travel, the more truth we can understand. Understanding the things that surround us is the best preparation to understand the things that are beyond. ”

Hypatia of Alexandria

” A man who entered your psychic field would have been honored to be in your presence simply for your being women. ”

Vicki Noble