Artist Statement

I draw the way some people pace.
The line comes before the thought does. 

 My work lives somewhere between observation and emotional residue. I am interested in the psychological architecture of everyday life — bodegas, apartment windows, street corners, lovers, family members, people waiting, people leaving, people surviving quietly inside cities that ask too much from them. Most of the figures I draw are not posed. They are witnessed.

I think of these works as psychogeographic sketches: emotional maps made through movement, memory, anxiety, humor, tenderness, and overstimulation. The drawings are intentionally unfinished because memory itself is unfinished. A city is never fully seen at once. Neither is a person.

My linework behaves almost like nervous system documentation. Scribbles, repeated marks, distortions, and unstable perspective become evidence of feeling rather than mistakes to correct. I am less interested in technical realism than in psychological truth. I want a drawing to feel overheard instead of staged.

Color in my work functions emotionally rather than descriptively. A mustard sky can carry exhaustion. A blue storefront can become emotional weight. A pink figure can hold warmth, danger, softness, or memory all at once. I use selective color blocking the way some writers use fragments of dialogue — as atmosphere, interruption, or pulse.

My background in photography deeply informs the work. I think cinematically and compositionally, often cropping scenes abruptly or allowing large areas of emptiness to remain unresolved. Many of these drawings begin from moments I encounter in daily life in New York and the Bronx: people dancing, arguing, smoking, writing, embracing, waiting at counters, leaning into windows, disappearing into architecture. I am interested in how urban environments shape emotional behavior and how ordinary moments become mythological when observed closely enough.

There is also humor in the work. Not escapist humor, but survival humor — the kind found in Dominican households, street conversations, beauty salons, music, gossip, performance, and daily improvisation. I believe absurdity and tenderness often coexist.

Ultimately, my practice is about trying to understand what it means to remain emotionally present inside a world that constantly fragments attention. The drawings become records of that attempt. They are not clean because living is not clean. They are searching because I am searching.