Moving constantly between Italy and Thailand, my world was always shifting; airports became familiar, and my home a mosaic of objects, textiles, and materials. This duality shaped my eye early on: I learned to read culture through form, color, and texture. Making art became my way of grounding change: painting, for me, is a borderless space where materials, memories, and identities can coexist and transform.

I paint the quiet tension of small things; everyday gestures, emotional shifts, unspoken states of mind. My process moves between control and intuition: repeating forms to find rhythm, then breaking them to let something unexpected emerge. Each piece is a symbolic language, a way to translate what I can’t put into words. Through painting, I turn internal chaos into moments of calm, offering viewers fragments of their own emotional landscape.

My practice is rooted in exploration. I let materials guide me, sometimes it’s instinct, sometimes it’s a quiet response to a feeling or place. I move across scale and medium as a way to reflect on time, memory, and transformation. I try not to set rules, but to stay open. Each form reveals something the other can’t.

I see beauty as something intimate and imperfect, more ritual than result. It lives in the way I prepare coffee, fold fabrics, arrange objects, or care for my skin in the quiet hours. These small, personal routines root me in the present. Beauty, for me, isn’t polished: it’s raw, quiet, and deeply felt. In my work, I try to preserve that feeling: the texture of a brushstroke, the unfinished edge, the trace of a hand. It’s about presence over perfection, holding space for what’s real.

I begin by preparing the space; lighting a candle, choosing music that matches my mood, adjusting the easel, and setting the canvas in place. Mixing colors is a grounding act, like tuning an instrument. These simple gestures help me shift inward. The textures around me: linen, paper, leftover fabric, bring me into the present. They remind me that making is not just about the result, but about being fully there.

Milan taught me elegance, restraint, and the quiet power of details. New York gave me urgency, freedom, and the courage to take up space. Each city shaped how I move through the world how I see, feel, and create. They left their mark not just in my work, but in the pace of my thoughts, the way I dress, the way I hold contrast; between structure and spontaneity, softness and intensity.

Lately I feel drawn to movement: formats that breathe, travel, and interact with the body. Textiles, garments, portable objects. I’m also thinking more about storytelling as a medium: blending image, text, and memory into something more fluid. There’s a desire to blur the lines between art, life, and ritual to create works that are not just seen, but lived with.