My gaze on the world is guided by a dual nature: that of a research geologist, accustomed to reading the history of the earth in the layers of rock, and that of a draftsman, who seeks to convey that harmony through the slow stroke of the pencil.

In my works, the environment is not merely a backdrop, but the protagonist of a narrative that celebrates the strength and grandeur of nature. However, my research does not ignore the fragility of our environment. Through the meticulous use of colored pencils, I seek to highlight how the beauty that surrounds us is vulnerable to human-induced transformations.

I've chosen to almost always exclude the human figure from my compositions. I prefer that our presence be felt only through the traces we leave behind: a path, a ruin blending into the vegetation, witnesses to a past when the connection with the environment was deeper and more respectful. My goal is to highlight what we often overlook today and risk losing forever.

My style, based on detailed realism and a careful study of light and shadow, stems from a desire to capture the dynamics of the weather and the static nature of stone. I invite those who view my work to immerse themselves in the landscape, to wander through it, to rediscover that sense of peace and silence that only pristine nature can inspire.

 

In this process, I sense a profound analogy between geology and the art of the pencil. Each pencil stroke is not a simple mark but a sediment that overlaps the previous one. As a researcher, I observe reality not for its surface, but for its stratigraphic history. On paper, I try to reproduce that age-old mechanism where the density of color becomes substance and form emerges from a layering of glazes. My work is a core sampling of the soul: delving into the visible through the rhythmic repetition of the mark, until reaching that core of truth that the haste of the contemporary gaze no longer grasps. Using the pencil is, for me, the act of solidifying emotion through the stratification of time.