Self portrait in blue

30x40cm, Acrylic on Canvas, Crochet with Cotton Yarn

I’ve always been obsessed with Eiffel 65’s “Blue.”
So has the pop music industry, apparently — there seems to be a new version every year since 1999.

But back to the point:

This self-portrait is based on the official photo taken when I received the highest academic award at my MBA. At the time, I didn’t fully understand why it felt bittersweet. I thought I was relaxed, celebrating — but in truth, I was still quietly holding myself to the highest imaginable standards. Always performing. Always proving.

Beneath that moment of pride lived fear and sadness — fear of not belonging, of not existing enough, of not being good enough to deserve to exist. Grief over the many versions of myself I kept letting go of in favor of a polished, career-friendly story.

I was blue.

The crochet net around my face represents that cage. Yet there is a clear window — a pathway to escape.

That award became my open door.

My pathway to freedom.

experiment

5x10cm, Acrylic on Canvas, Crochet with Acrylic Yarn

This was an experiment — my first completed work combining crochet and painting.
I was mostly interested in playing with contrasts: color versus texture, the softness of yarn against the flatness of paint, the intricate stitches layered on a simple background. There was no grand concept behind it — just the leftover yarn in my stash, and the paint came after. I loved how the nets intertwined organically.

Funnily enough, I recently donated this piece to my current employer — a company filled with geologists obsessed with rocks. They immediately pointed out that it looks exactly like certain rocks under a microscope.

The most stable matter form on Earth, isn’t it?
Maybe this piece turned out more grounded than I expected.

portrait of daniella

40x30cm, Acrylic on Canvas, Crochet with Cotton Yarn

Daniella is one of my dearest friends.
We’ve been close since 2012, sharing different lives, evolving alongside each other. We’ve known many versions of ourselves — and she never ceases to amaze me.

Lately, Daniella has been rediscovering her relationship with art and seeking a more meaningful path. It felt natural to paint her portrait in a way that reflects the process she’s undergoing.

She is a force of nature — which is why I chose vibrant shades of red and pink. These tones contrast with her previous surroundings: stale, fixed, muted.

The crochet net in the piece is made of small stars — or maybe cubes, depending on your perspective. They represent her essence: structured yet expansive, soft yet unyielding. Through the net, you can see her defiant gaze — a woman determined to build a life that truly fits her.

in the grip of ego

30x40cm, Acrylic on Canvas, Embroidered with Acrylic Threads and Glass Beads

The ego.
The mysterious force. The deeply rooted fears, desires, thought patterns.
The one that is you. Woven so tightly within us.

So beautifully crafted — glittery, glamorous.
Self-respect.
Self-righteousness.
All dressed in pink.
All foolish.

Streckenkönigin

20x30cm, Acrylic on Canvas

A stream of consciousness, written at the peak of my financial anxiety.
Golden cuffs — crafted by yours truly.
The fears and losses born from success itself.

Debt.
Questions.
Love.

And at the center: one word — Streckenkönigin.
“Queen of the route.” It came from a 10K race t-shirt I got in Germany.
But strecken can also mean to stretch.

I thought about my ability to constantly overextend myself —
to stretch far beyond my limits,
often unconsciously,
only to snap back
in some other self-destructive fashion.

Veritas.

child labor

30x40cm, Collage + Acrylic on Paper

Collage is a joyful medium for me — playful, full of surprises.
Cutouts made it even more fun. I had this idea of building another tree out of newspaper, and quickly the piece took a turn toward the theme of well-being (“bem”) — in harmony with the words I had selected from the clippings.

But beneath the playful tone, there’s a more personal layer.
I made this piece over a weekend at my parents’ house. At one point, my father walked in, looked at what I was doing, and asked — intrigued — whether I was a child back at school.

I laughed then.
But later, I cried.
Because my inner child was grieving — for the childhood she never fully had.

beaten paths

30x30cm, Collage + Acrylic on Paper

I spent nearly ten years abroad.
It’s funny how mundane things — a subway ticket, a receipt, a flyer — become deeply meaningful when you’re far from home.
Anything even slightly different catches the eye. The brain holds on to it.

Over time, I started collecting all kinds of “travel paper.”
I stored them in boxes — attempts to materialize memories.
To preserve those fleeting moments when the mundane became special.

This piece was an attempt to give those scraps a new visual life.
To let them speak in color and shape what they once whispered in passing.

paper vase

40x50cm, Collage + Oil on Canvas

Another experiment — this time with paper and oil paint.
I don’t love working with oil. The long drying times, the toxic materials — they make the process uncomfortable, sometimes even painful.
But I do enjoy the result.

There’s something grounding about returning to paper.
I find comfort in the cycle of cellulose —
watching it, in a way, return to its original form.

shadows

60x100cm, Oil on Canvas

This technique was an experiment in letting go. I blotted silk paper into wet paint and observed the shapes that emerged — unpredictable, delicate.

Butterflies came naturally from the ethereal forms created by the paper itself. They simply… appeared.

As if they had been there all along, waiting to be revealed.

Isn’t every art like this?

nihon no haru

30x40cm, Acrylic on Canvas

This was my first painting under Master Ito’s guidance. It was inspired by an old Japanese watercolor — full of subtle movement.

We used the aerograph to create the delicate background, letting the air and pigment blend softly.
I love the interplay of yellow, green, and dark green — a quiet dance of color that captures the vibrancy of spring.

It’s a piece rooted in technique, but full of breath.

Areia branca

30x40cm, Acrylic on Canvas

Areia Branca — a sleepy seaside town in Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil’s northeasternmost state. Almost no people, just nature in its rawest, most beautiful form.

Areia Branca means “white sands,” but at sunset, the place glows with magical shades. It wasn’t pink — but that’s how I chose to portray it.

Otherworldly.
As I remembered it.
Or maybe, as I wished it to be.