I keep coming back to questions.

What is the colour of silence? Are there colours in silence, or do we assign them as a way to make the intangible more tangible? White often comes to mind—soft, expansive, silent. Or Does white hold all colours? Or is it the absence of them, waiting for us to fill it with meaning? These questions guide me, not as puzzles to solve but as threads to follow. I explore the way colour feels so inherently true to experience.

I think about green and its quiet, restorative quality. Onde o Verde Cura? Where does green heal? Why does it feel tied to renewal, to balance and ease? Is it the way it lingers in the periphery of our minds, or the way it seems to invite us to breathe deeper?

Pink is tender, yet it holds hushed fortitude. O Amor Tem Forma? Does love have a shape? Is it fluid and ever-changing, or is it solid and grounding? De Que Cor É o Afeto? What colour is affection? Pink feels like care, warmth, and the comfort of connection, but is affection always so simple?

Each sculpture I create feels like an experiment in these associations. They are not about proving what colour is or isn’t; instead, they ask why these connections feel so visceral and immediate.

This series isn’t about stillness, not exactly. Each piece pulses with the energy of curiosity, of asking without needing an answer. Onde Mora a Alegria? Where does joy reside? Is it in the way light catches a curve, in the space between forms, or in the act of seeing something anew? Joy feels golden to me, bright and fleeting, yet it also feels embedded in every part of the process, in the choices I make and the discoveries I stumble upon.

Quem Traduz o Silêncio do Azul? Who translates the silence of blue? It’s interesting how blue feels like understanding. It’s as if the colour holds recognizable truth, but cannot be understood without translation - a shared language without a need for translation - A Paz Que Você É. The Peace That Is You.

It was something discovered in the act of creation, in the moments when the questions flew freely and the answers were irrelevant.

The peace that is you is a moment, a flicker of recognition, found in the interplay of colours, feelings, and questions. These sculptures are spaces to pause, to look, to find yourself in the forms and the thoughts they hold. Where do you see yourself in their quiet reflections?

What is the peace that is you?

Is peace not something separate? Is it in the act of noticing, in the moments that linger through your eyes, through your experience, through your presence?