Unknown I

This drawing, made with charcoal on paper, captures the face of a young man whose expression is a mixture of strength and softness. Charcoal, with its ability to create intense contrasts and emotionally charged strokes, allows us to explore both the texture of the skin and the depth of the gaze. Unlike graphite, charcoal does not seek surgical precision, but rather an atmosphere, a feeling that breathes between line and shadow.

The process began with loose, gestural strokes, letting the face emerge little by little from the white void. The technique plays with the ephemeral: smudges, blurring with the fingers, lines that are almost completely erased and others that cling to the paper. Each layer is a decision between what is revealed and what is insinuated.

The figure depicted, with subtly effeminate features, does not respond to a specific ideal, but seeks to question it. What defines masculinity? Where does femininity begin? This face inhabits that in-between space, that terrain where labels are diluted. There is no fixed narrative; only a silent presence that invites us to look without prejudice.

Even the imperfections—accidental smears, fingerprints caught in the medium—are part of the story. They ground the portrait in reality, reminding us that this is not a polished icon, but a human being, captured in a moment of becoming. The drawing resists conclusion. It asks questions rather than offering answers, and in doing so, becomes a mirror for the viewer.

It is not just a portrait. It is an exploration of identity, of presence, of the fragile line between being seen and being understood.

Study of pastel lemons

This pastel still life of lemons is a vibrant, tactile study of light caught in the everyday. The lemons, deep yellow almost amber in their sunniest areas, rest on a crumpled white cloth, with soft shadows melting into shades of lavender, ochre and olive green. The background is diffuse, barely suggested with warm tones and broad brushstrokes, making the fruits seem to float within an atmosphere suspended between realism and evocation.

The process was deeply physical. Working with pastels demanded direct, almost intimate contact with the paper. Each layer of colour was applied with the fingers, blurring the pigments to mimic the slightly porous texture of lemon peel. The artist experimented with overlapping colours – mixing canary yellow with soft greens and oranges – to suggest the hues that light cast on the rough surface. The composition developed organically, without sketching, allowing the objects to ‘appear’ as the hand felt them.
The inspiration behind the work was the desire to celebrate the commonplace. Not as something vulgar, but as something profoundly beautiful in its honesty. The lemons, bought from a street stall one spring afternoon, had small imperfections: spots, indentations, scars. Instead of hiding them, the artist exalted them. For there – in what is neither symmetrical nor polished – lies what is truly human. The use of pastel was not accidental: its chromatic richness and malleability were ideal for capturing not only the colour, but also the soul of these lemons, which seem to glow from within, as if they contained light.

Study of lemons in charcoal

This study of lemons in charcoal captures with sober intensity the stillness and complexity of the everyday. The painting presents three lemons arranged on a rough surface, probably wood, where the texture is insinuated with dense, dark strokes. There is no colour, only shadows. The absence of vibrant yellow forces the viewer to look beyond the obvious: to observe the wrinkles in the skin, the subtle weight of each fruit, the way the light hits the outline and dissolves into the background, almost as if the lemons were emerging from a silent penumbra.

The process of creation was entirely analogue: it began with prolonged observation in natural afternoon light, in a small studio with west-facing windows. The lemons were placed unpretentiously, without any studied composition, simply as they had been left after purchase at the market. What began as a technical exercise in chiaroscuro became a graphic meditation on time and imperfection.

Inspiration was born out of a need to pause. The artist, overwhelmed by the constant rhythm of digital colour and the immediacy of modernity, sought refuge in the elemental: paper, charcoal and fruit. There is something in lemons that refers to the ephemeral – their aroma, their acidity, their ripening process – and that transience is contrasted here with the permanence of the graphite on the paper. In each stroke we perceive the intention of capturing not only a form, but a sensation: the light weight of the simple that nevertheless persists in the visual memory.