100 days of doors


April... is already here. I start my month not feeling well...again. I have a profound sensation of stagnation. May be was the moon or the lack of time to create something powerful, something big, challenging and meaningful.

I know that my goal for this year is run and using my imagination as a power tool to create and make the art and the living that I want. On my running goal I'm more than ok. It drives me, more and more to be strong and determined to reach my miles and more. And at the end if this is the only thing I can reach, I'm ok with that, of course I will be celebrating it with all my heart.

Maybe my sadness is that, deep inside, I know that I can't reach and have my other part: the creative one. It's a struggle to be an artist and create with a day job, a day job where I'm not happy. With making "small illustrations" when I want to draw big and paint big and create pieces of art to expose. I'm learning that working on that so hard, is not enough. Wishing for that is not enough. Dreaming of that is not enough. My reality is simple and hard. I'm on my own.

What can I do? Not much really. Just keeping going, not waiting for hope or  miracles (those things doesn't exist), let go the dreams and the ideas and staying firm on my days making what I can do in the best way. That's what running has taught me every single day of my life.

So 100 doors are waiting for me. 100 doors of questions. 100 doors to think about the reality (my own), the possibilities, the pain, the sadness, the anger, the tools that I need, the privilege that I don't have because I'm not rich, I am poor. The poetry and metaphor of a door. The abandon of the Universe, what is hide behind, what is reveal when you open a door, what you expect, what you found and lost. Since april 3rd for 100 days I will be working on my project: #100daysofdoors showing on Instagram @nwpb_art 

Let's see how evolve.



Every once in a while the "facebook memories" jumping out to the core of my nostalgia. It seems nothing personal, but reminds you events and actions from the past and it hurts.

But the tragic stories doesn't have a place here, they are just reminders for start fresh. There was a time in my creative life that I wanted to do it all: jewelry, photography, printmaking, poetry, books. Although I studied professionally all that disciplines except poetry, I stopped to working on them. Right know I feel silly writing about this. So much time or maybe not since I cut with everything that I loved so much.

Deep inside, they lived in a proteteced place: my heart.

Little by little they emerge, I start to create again, working creatively with my jewelry designs, in some way I never stopped taking pictures and "collecting images" and words. Printing some linocut cards and carved new ones. And now I will start with books, artist books.

A few post from last weeks, my "random words", are a collection of words to create new visual poetry with all the pictures that I have and still take, around the city, around everything beautiful and ugly. For me. This is for me because I owe it to myself. No more fear. No more "complejos", no more competition, no more hiding.

Now I'm in the process stage, seeing, searching, inviting, conjuring all the mistery  and all the love back to me.