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The Story Behind My Art
I was born in 1977 in Santa Clara, Cuba, a city in the heart of the island, surrounded by landscapes, colors, and contradictions that would quietly shape the way I see the world.
As a boy, I was restless, curious, mischievous, and constantly getting into trouble. I had an energy that seemed impossible to contain. But there was one place where everything became quiet: a sheet of paper and a box of crayons.
I could spend hours drawing.
I didn’t know it then, but those simple drawings were the beginning of something that would eventually define my entire life.
The Moment Everything Changed
When I was seven years old, my life changed forever.
Because of my own recklessness and endless energy, I was involved in a nearly fatal car accident. I survived thanks to my parents and the medical care I received in Cuba. Life had given me a second chance.
After that, something inside me changed.
I began to look at the world differently. I started noticing things I had never noticed before: small details, expressions, colors, gestures, fragments of everyday life. It was as if surviving had made me more aware of the extraordinary value hidden within ordinary moments.
I developed an almost uncontrollable need to observe, understand, and capture the world around me.
At first, I used words.
Then I discovered that images could say things that words could not.
My parents and my older brother recognized this passion and encouraged me. They took me to exhibitions and artistic events, found materials for me, and, most importantly, allowed me to believe that what made me happy was worth pursuing.
I entered countless art competitions as a child. I didn’t win many of them.
But I kept drawing.
Recognition was never enough to stop me, and failure was never enough to make me quit.
At Eleven Years Old
When I was eleven, my parents told me about an art school where I could develop my talent.
At that age, I didn’t really understand what the word “art” meant. I only knew that I wanted to learn how to paint and understand this strange impulse that constantly pushed me to create.
Getting into the school was not easy. There was a demanding entrance examination, and the competition was intense. I prepared myself and, at eleven years old, I was accepted.
That decision changed the direction of my life.
For years, I studied drawing, painting, art history, and the disciplines required to become an artist. The training was demanding, sometimes exhausting, and the competition among students was intense.
But little by little, I began to understand something much more important than technique:
I began to understand why I needed to create.
Painting Through Difficult Times
My years of study coincided with one of the most difficult periods in Cuba’s recent history.
After the collapse of the Soviet bloc in Eastern Europe, Cuba entered a profound economic crisis. Food and basic necessities became scarce, and everyday life became a constant struggle for survival.
My family, like many others, had to find ways to endure.
We went to the countryside to grow and harvest food, with the help of my paternal grandfather, who had land where we could cultivate what we needed to survive.
Those years taught me something no art school could have taught me:
Creation does not come from having everything. Sometimes, it comes from learning to find something meaningful when you have almost nothing.
Perhaps that is why I have never seen art simply as decoration.
For me, art has always been connected to life.
Becoming an Artist
At twenty-two, I completed my formal studies and entered the confusing, exciting, and uncertain world of professional art.
I continued painting while also teaching at the same school where I had studied. I experimented constantly, collaborated with other artists and students, participated in exhibitions, and slowly began receiving recognition.
More importantly, I finally understood what being an artist meant to me.
It wasn’t simply about knowing how to paint.
It was about learning how to look.
The Artists Who Opened My Eyes
Throughout my journey, I have been deeply influenced by artists from very different cultures and generations.
The Renaissance masters taught me about discipline and the possibilities of the human figure. Impressionism and Post-Impressionism showed me that light, color, and perception could transform reality.
Vincent van Gogh was one of my greatest fascinations. I could spend hours looking at his paintings.
Joaquín Sorolla showed me the extraordinary power of light and freshness. Toulouse-Lautrec taught me how painting and drawing could capture the character of an entire society.
Russian masters such as Ilya Repin and Valentin Serov inspired me with their technical mastery and the emotional power of their work.
Later, traveling through Europe opened another world for me.
I discovered contemporary German artists whose work I had never encountered in Cuba. Seeing their paintings and installations directly in museums was transformative.
Gerhard Richter continues to fascinate me with the possibilities of painting itself.
Anselm Kiefer showed me how scale, materials, history, and memory can become part of a work of art.
Joseph Beuys made me think differently about the creative process and about the meaning of materials themselves.
American artists also became important references in my development.
Andy Warhol influenced me through his understanding of popular culture and imagery. Paul McCarthy fascinated me with his monumental installations, his unconventional approach, and the way he uses art to confront social and political ideas.
Each of these artists gave me something different.
But I never wanted to become another version of them.
I wanted to discover my own language.
A Wider World
My relationship with Denmark began through a gallery that continues to represent my work today. Traveling and experiencing different cultures gradually changed my understanding of art.
I began to realize that although our languages, histories, and cultures may be completely different, the emotions we experience as human beings are remarkably universal.
That idea became increasingly important to my work.
Over the years, my paintings have been exhibited internationally through galleries and art fairs and have found their way into private collections in different parts of the world.
But every time a painting enters someone’s home, I remember where everything began:
A restless Cuban boy.
A box of crayons.
A piece of paper.
And a second chance at life.
Life Beyond the Studio
Today, I live in Lima, Peru, and my life beyond the studio is deeply shaped by my three children.
They have completely transformed the way I understand life. They have taught me that growing up doesn’t only mean teaching it also means learning; that time is far more valuable than we often realize, and that many of the most important things in life cannot be measured.
As a father, one of my greatest wishes is to pass strong human values on to them and give them the freedom to discover who they want to become.
I want to teach them to be curious, to pursue their own passions, to get back up when things don’t go as expected, and, above all, to have the courage to be themselves.
I don’t want to tell them which path to follow.
I want them to have the tools to find their own.
Perhaps, after so many years dedicated to finding my own language through painting, that is one of the things I wish most for them:
That they find what makes them feel alive and have the courage to follow it.
They are, without a doubt, one of the greatest sources of inspiration in my life.
Why I Paint
Today, when I stand in front of a blank canvas, I am not simply trying to create something beautiful.
I am trying to create a connection.
I want my work to speak to people regardless of their background, education, culture, or knowledge of art.
You don’t need to know art history to feel something.
You don’t need to understand every symbol.
You simply need to look.
Maybe a painting will remind you of something you had forgotten.
Maybe it will make you question something.
Maybe it will make you smile.
Maybe it will make you uncomfortable.
Maybe, for a few moments, it will simply make you stop.
That is enough.
Because my goal is not merely for my paintings to be seen.
I want them to be experienced.
I want every work to become a small portal a place where memories, questions, emotions, and personal experiences can meet.
Every painting I create contains details, symbols, words, and fragments of my own way of seeing. But once a painting leaves my studio, it no longer belongs entirely to me.
It becomes part of someone else’s story.
And that is one of the most beautiful things about being an artist.
Welcome to My World
If you have arrived here, I invite you to look beyond the surface.
Take your time.
Look closely.
Discover the details.
Read the words.
Question the symbols.
And most importantly, allow yourself to feel.
Every painting is its own universe, waiting to be interpreted by the person standing in front of it.
I am always interested in the stories of the people who connect with my work. Your experiences, memories, and way of seeing the world are as valuable to me as any lesson I have learned in museums or art schools.
Perhaps my greatest satisfaction is knowing that something I created in my studio can enter another person’s life and leave behind a little passion, inspiration, reflection, or simply a feeling that makes their day brighter.
That is why I paint.
And that is why I am grateful that you are here.
Thank you for entering my world.
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