My journey in the world of colours began in a quite sad way, with a great tragedy in my family. The loss of my brother has shaken me pretty hard, and my refuse to accept his departure in the underworld was the end of myself at that time. There were days and nights spent in tears and grief, for I was indifferent to what could happen to me in any moment. But without me knowing, one day came in which a glimpse of light started to twinkle. During an irrelevant and random trip to a hypermarket together with one of my colleagues who tried to be there within that pretty delicate period for me, he saw fit to offer me, in order to ease my pain, my first painting colours, my first sketch pad and my first set of brushes. And it was right there and then when my beautiful journey into the painting world, a world of my own… started. That was the place where I was able to cry, to dream, and especially, to express in my own way.
I think beyond technique, it is very important to express something more than your thoughts. Through painting as therapy, I tried to transpose the urge for meditating, relaxing and forgetting the daily struggles and not solely, for rejoicing, for easing. I tried to make my own peaceful way, with a lot of light in my life, an open book… a powerful vibe; and for me, the canvas was and still is my best friend in sadness and happiness alike, bringing comfort to my soul.
What does painting mean to me?
It means the return to life, to the wonderful things that surround us, it means a breath of fresh air and it means hope. I certainly won’t give up this splendid gift that life has offered me.
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