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Who I Am & Why I Paint
Born in Mexico on September 1989, I crossed the border as an infant in my mother’s arms.
But the real borders—the invisible ones—were already waiting.
Between strength and fragility.
Beauty and pain.
Survival and expression.
I’ve spent my life crossing them all.
At just three years old, I was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy.
While other kids ran, I learned what it meant to be still.
My muscles weakened, but my inner world grew stronger.
My mother handed me crayons to distract me from pain, but instead, she handed me a new way to move—through lines, colors, and stories.
As a teen, I rebelled.
I drank to disappear.
But art always found me.
Always pulled me back.
It became my way of staying alive, of screaming quietly, of telling the truth no one wanted to hear.
Over the years, I’ve explored many forms—drawing, painting, mixed media.
I don’t chase perfection.
I chase honesty.
My work blends expressionism with realism, but I
don’t care for labels.
Sometimes I use acrylics.
Sometimes I use fire.
Always, I use truth.
My philosophy is simple: Nothing is perfect.
We try so hard to perfect ourselves that we forget the art in simply being human.
I create for those who feel too broken to try.
For the ones whose voices tremble.
For the ones who never got the chance to speak.
My art isn’t here to match your couch.
It’s here to match your memories.
Your grief.
Your hope.
Your quiet rage.
I paint what I feel.
I stay in it until the canvas can carry it for me.
This is more than art.
This is how I breathe.
And I hope when you see it—you feel less alone.
