When I was a little boy, I spent the afternoon watching the birds in the cushion of the neighboring yard, away from the turmoil that plagued my family, tried to make a place in my imagination that would escape me from all that suffering, a place where birds and strange creatures danced amidst branches and flowers, the magician and the stranger gathered to make me smile even for a minute.
Little did I know that one day my own imagination would be my most terrible enemy and at the same time my savior.
I still studied art a little more, although it was highly praised and encouraged by my teachers, I could not enjoy it and painting flowers and landscapes did not animate me at all. So I gradually gave up the course and the painter fell asleep.
Years later, however, I was struck by tragedies even worse than those that plagued me during my childhood and these misfortunes led me to never fall deep depression, followed by a panic syndrome that paralyzed me for years. My existence has lost its meaning and my life became governed by medicine. Certainly my life had only one way.But one day things started to change and with a lot of effort I began to paint the strange things that went through my mind and gradually, these paintings became a reason to get out of bed.
And so the strange world that sometimes saved me in childhood, then saved me in adult life. The multicolored birds and the anthropomorphic beings that populated my mind took again their place and began to bring me again the joy of living that apparently had left me.
At the moment my paintings and my children's tales are simply my life.
Today I try to put into my art ludic and fanciful elements that refer to childhood, dreams and innocence.
Today I have a special affection for my 'little winged' collection, not only because it is my last work, but because it is a work where fantastic tales and paintings full of magic blend easily.