A few months later, I had a dream — vivid, clear, powerful. I saw myself throwing paint on a canvas, moving wildly, with freedom and joy. The next morning, I went out, bought all the materials, and transformed my old bedroom into a studio. I recreated that dream. I painted. I channeled. And I never stopped.
Painting became my sacred permission —
to be wild, to be raw, to express without apologizing or explaining.
It brought me back to the essence of why I had always created: to channel what cannot be seen or named. It gave me back my freedom.
For many years, I believed painting wasn’t for me — simply because I didn’t fit the mold. But that changed at age 25. I had this spontaneous idea for my birthday: to buy a huge canvas, invite my friends, and just paint freely together. That experience unlocked something in me. It felt like joy, like play, like pure liberation.
I remember telling my grandmother —a lifelong artist and art gallerist— about this. It was our last conversation before she passed away. She believed in me with all her heart.
This work is also for her.
Now, every piece I create is an act of remembering.
A ritual of tearing down the walls of perfectionism.
A living conversation between me and what’s beyond form.
My body moves, my senses open, and I let the unseen flow through me. This is not about technique. It’s about truth.
My art is a dance with the infinite.
It’s how I say yes to myself, again and again.
I am not just a painter.
I am a channel, a vessel, a creator of portals.
I am Infinita.
My story
I never thought I could be a painter.
As a child, I was deeply connected to the arts, but every time I encountered painting through the traditional lens —focused on technique, realism, and discipline— it felt cold and restrictive. I even tried attending painting classes as a kid, but they left me bored and disconnected from myself. I didn’t find my essence there.
Instead, I found myself in performance.
Theater was my world. I would create characters, improvise stories, use my body, my voice — and something magical happened: people were captivated. They often told me I had the gift of transporting them to another world.
I could feel that something special was happening — but back then, I didn’t have the words for it.
Now I recognize it clearly: I was already channeling.
A gift that, later in my adult life, I have developed deeply —and that now forms the very foundation of how I exist in the world.
Making the practice of tuning into the unseen and translating it into words, colors, movements, and visions the most accurate expression of who I am.
My story
I never thought I could be a painter.
As a child, I was deeply connected to the arts, but every time I encountered painting through the traditional lens —focused on technique, realism, and discipline— it felt cold and restrictive. I even tried attending painting classes as a kid, but they left me bored and disconnected from myself. I didn’t find my essence there.
Instead, I found myself in performance.
Theater was my world. I would create characters, improvise stories, use my body, my voice — and something magical happened: people were captivated.They often told me I had the gift of transporting them to another world.
I could feel that something special was happening — but back then, I didn’t have the words for it.
Now I recognize it clearly: I was already channeling.
A gift that, later in my adult life, I have developed deeply —and that now forms the very foundation of how I exist in the world. Making the practice of tuning into the unseen and translating it into words, colors, movements, and visions the most accurate expression of who I am.
For many years, I believed painting wasn’t for me — simply because I didn’t fit the mold. But that changed at age 25. I had this spontaneous idea for my birthday: to buy a huge canvas, invite my friends, and just paint freely together. That experience unlocked something in me. It felt like joy, like play, like pure liberation.
I remember telling my grandmother —a lifelong artist and art gallerist— about this. It was our last conversation before she passed away. She believed in me with all her heart. This work is also for her.
A few months later, I had a dream — vivid, clear, powerful. I saw myself throwing paint on a canvas, moving wildly, with freedom and joy. The next morning, I went out, bought all the materials, and transformed my old bedroom into a studio. I recreated that dream. I painted. I channeled. And I never stopped.
Painting became my sacred permission — to be wild, to be raw, to express without apologizing or explaining.
It brought me back to the essence of why I had always created: to channel what cannot be seen or named. It gave me back my freedom.
Now, every piece I create is an act of remembering. A ritual of tearing down the walls of perfectionism.A living conversation between me and what’s beyond form.
My body moves, my senses open, and I let the unseen flow through.
This is not about technique. It’s about truth.
My art is a dance with the infinite.
It’s how I say yes to myself, again and again.
I am not just a painter.
I am a channel, a vessel, a creator of portals.
I am Infinita.
