It is no longer about representing reality, but about inhabiting it—exploring it, experimenting with it.
Words are not always enough.
The work begins: a page, then another.
drawing, cutting, assembling
And in the act of making, you create—each day, a little—while the baby sleeps, while meals are cooking, while others dream.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months. You wonder when it will end. And when the drawing is finally complete, a silence opens, a void.
Then comes the exhibition.
Faces turn to you, questions arise, people want to know, to understand. You smile, hiding the tremor of fear.
You, who believed everything had already been said, find yourself speaking—as if to convince… Convince of what? Of whom?
Words slip away.
The work is finished, yet like stumbling twice on the same stone, everything begins again.
You take up your pencil once more—because what was once said has already lost its weight…
rosa mujal closa 