Because I never went to school and grew up as a circus child, my way of understanding the world has always been unconventional. While others learned to write in classrooms, I developed my own language, an imaginary alphabet made of signatures, symbols, and gestures. It was never about words but about movement, rhythm, and emotion, much like the performances I grew up around.

Over time, these signs evolved into something more than just a secret code. They became the foundation of my art. Each stroke carries the essence of a forgotten language, a raw and instinctive way of communicating beyond words. My paintings are not just visuals; they are conversations, stories told through marks that only emotion can translate.

This alphabet is alive, constantly transforming, just as I do. It is untamed, like the childhood I lived, free from rigid structures. Through it, I embrace spontaneity, the purity of expression that children possess before rules confine them. My work is a return to that primal state, where meaning is felt rather than read, where art speaks in its purest form.