Painting has always been a part of my life. From age 11, I went to evening classes at the Fine Arts school, slipping away from my family home where my ceramicist parents were already feeding into my inspiration. Guided both by the urgency and the dire necessity to capture the world, I wanted to preserve the memory of the images that I was exposed to, especially as I had been told as a child that one day, I would be blind.
Gradually, painting took root in me. I found where I belonged. Over the course of time and exhibitions, I had the feeling that I was gradually entering into experimental mode, indefinitely questioning my work, drawing inspiration from moments of life that were so extreme that they became the markers, the central theme to my artistic approach.
The discovery of bullfighting la corrida is one of them: shaken by the fear of the show, whilst being aware of its beauty, I saw it as an echo of life, where tragedy and beauty clash, where human nature can be both monstrous and beautiful.
For me, bullfighting was indicative of this duality and the passionate beauty involved. The passing of my grandfather which occurred at the same time therefore became a part of my first corrida painting. While bullfighting symbolises the transition from shadow to light, from the dark bullpen to the centre of the dazzling arena, it also alludes to a perpetual movement of colours and of wonder, a real dance of shapes and substances, equally powerful and short-lived. Capturing the memory of fleeting moments therefore became an obsession which has not left me since.
While living my life as a woman and a mother, love was my driving force. My encounter with flamenco dancing and the gypsy world allowed me to express it. By doing my best to capture the movements of Flamenco, I wanted to get as close as possible to these women performing romanticised stories through a ritualised dance. In this search for truth, the time came for me to explore another aspect.
