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What’s most interesting about the rise of AI is that it’s making us rethink everything: education, work, and the real potential each of us has. If you’re good at something, this is your moment to prove it. No one will be able to tell you to keep doing the same job just because you have to. If you’re going to be replaced, maybe it’s time to reconnect with yourself and what you’re really made of. Think twice, three times, four times: what brings you joy? what do you love to do? what do you love to create? what can you offer the world that no machine ever will? What an exciting time to be alive.
2025.11.03
Choosing a battle seems to give life a direction, a narrative, a sense of purpose. In recent decades, this need for positioning has intensified to the point of becoming a form of identity: to be is, above all, to be for or against something. Social media amplifies this logic, turning every difference into a public stance, and every nuance into an act of alignment,,, the act of choosing becomes less a result of thought than a gesture of display.
Yet one might ask whether there is any true freedom in these decisions, or if we are merely responding to frameworks already in place. Perhaps we are not choosing at all, but moving within a structure of possibilities designed by others. In that sense, choice becomes a simulation of autonomy: we believe we are deciding, when in fact we are only occupying the position expected of us.
In contrast, I recognize in myself another kind of choice, one that does not rely on confrontation but on creation (”Creo una pieza, luego soy libre”). To create is not to oppose; it is to build from silence, sometimes even from indifference. The act of creation has a spiritual nature, a closeness to something that does not need to be explained. The stronger that impulse becomes, the less desire there is to argue or to defend. Creation establishes its own order, one that does not deny the world but observes it from a distance, as a temporary stage, a fiction humanity invents to feel that it belongs to something.
2025.10.31
for the past few weeks i’ve been trying to figure out how to make my work reach people in different parts of the world without losing my mind in the process. it’s been… complicated.
turns out i’m not exactly a great fit for most bookstores or distributors: i’m not backed by a press or a gallery, i’m not part of a collective, and i don’t speak the language of trends. i just make things and try to get them into people’s hands.
...and maybe it’s also because i don’t come from an art school, a network, or a scene. i don’t have institutional backing, academic credentials, amiguismos, or the kind of “dissident voice” that sometimes seems required to belong somewhere.
today my studio looked like a small distribution center... piles of packages ready to go out by my own means. i didn’t really want to handle this again (printing labels, customs forms, post office lines), but seeing how many people ordered made me feel something i hadn’t felt in a while: that the work travels further than i do.
to everyone who already received theirs... thank you for the patience and support and to those still waiting...i’m sorry it’s taking a bit longer, your copies are coming soon.
i guess it’s finally time to find an agent (lol?). until then, it’s just me, doing my best to keep things moving around the world.
2025.10.28
I have so much to say, so much to write, but it won’t be today, though it will be soon. I wish I could do it now, but I’m tired, tired of looking at the screen, tired of thinking I’ll do it soon, but I will, soon, not today, but soon. Because there’s so much to type, so much to drift through, and yes, we must allow ourselves to drift, mustn’t we? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing lately, drifting, endlessly, pointlessly, beautifully, more and more and more?
I’m a bit tired. Oh, and for the first time I’ve answered the BIG question: what comes next? in a moment of introspection, with a kind of strangeness, the kind that comes only from a near-divine clarity. I knew it, and I know it now. And I’d like to tell it, to elaborate, to unfold it all, but no word makes sense right now. Action, my friends, is what moves us forward.
Still, I have so much to write. I’ve been feeling torn, conflicted, and I’ll spit, brutally, without filter, everything that’s inside me. So that whoever wants to know, will know.
2025.10.28
Lil interview for peopleandblogs. Thank you Manu.
2025.09.30
You must eat the banana whole. You can mash it, slice it, or blend it, but you can also put it straight into your mouth, maybe choke on it, or if you are lucky, swallow it without chewing. The hardest part might be when it slides down your throat, like an old rusted slide, with irritating stops, pain, suffocation. But the banana can make its way down, I am convinced of that. Its ergonomics, texture, and softness will help. What you have to do is eat it without fear. Look at it one last time, and the next thing you will see is its empty peel, no banana inside. (From Adult life, 2025 - upcoming book)
2025.09.10
Imagination is method
2025.09.10
The act of making graphics should be seen as a game. The tools should be provided primarily by apparent chance... that is, what the player sees around and decides to pick up as a means “to compose the creation.” And once familiar with the environment, one must walk through the playroom as if it were endless, with infinite doors… this being the primal experience of anyone who sets out to make graphics: to wander, to open and close doors, to see what is happening here and what is happening there.
2025.09.10
Everyone is tired, everything looks tired, and still the production continue. Fatigue today is not personal. It’s not just about lack of sleep or too many deadlines. It is structural. A system that keeps demanding presence, productivity, enthusiasm… even when nothing is left.
In visual arts/graphic design this pressure is visible everywhere. Projects are measured not only by their depth but by their speed. This logic produces predictable outcomes. Projects cut down to fit impossible timelines. Visual decisions made automatically. Typefaces spreading like fashion accessories, color palettes rising and disappearing in a single season. What could have been singular collapses into sameness.
The paradox is clear: this unstoppable stream of work is not proof of energy, it is fatigue showing itself. Abundance is only exhaustion in disguise. Block, repetition, homogenization… all symptoms of the same exhaustion.
Rest is not indulgence, right? It’s the only space where imagination can reorganize itself… Rest, drift, distraction… even the useless detour is necessary. Imagination needs this space to return with clarity. Imagination is method: it is what allows a project to detach from urgency, to create another rhythm, to propose a form that wasn’t dictated in advance.
Rest. Work. Rest.
2025.08.14
A week ago, talking with a colleague, the question came up: so, what’s next? It made me feel uneasy because I didn’t have a clear answer. I wish I could’ve said “Well, I don’t know” but instead I said, without thinking: what’s next is… nothing. Nothing else.
That day I was tired, I’d gone out over the weekend (after a long time of not doing that) and I wasn’t in the best mood. Still, the answer surprised me, because it felt like I wasn’t really deciding anything: what’s next is nothing.
When I got back to the hotel, I asked myself again: so, what’s next? And honestly, part of me wants there to be nothing else, no matter the context or the tiredness of that day. If, after all these years, I wanted there to be nothing else, what would be the reason? I made a list, and one of the reasons was “sadness”, not the sadness of someone crying in front of a mirror, tbh, but of someone looking around, enjoying what’s there, even feeling joy… until that feeling slowly fades and is replaced by a deep wish to return to silence and anonymity.
Right now, anonymity isn’t possible, I’m writing, you’re reading, and I’m still sharing my projects. But do I really want to keep making things? Am I tired? Am I bored? I still have another book to release this year, and it feels strange to feel this way… because 2025 was supposed to be a year to make things happen, to finally hold my work in my hands. And now that I have it… why don’t I feel anything? Why do I feel so empty, yet so fascinated by being alive and by the idea of still creating, even in uncertainty?
2025.08.14
What’s next is… nothing. Nothing else. Not a plan, not an answer, not even a reason to look further. The air feels still, as if everything that had to happen already happened. I’m here, in the middle of what I once wanted, holding it, and yet there’s no rush, no urgency to keep moving, only the slow pull toward silence, the quiet certainty that for now nothing is exactly enough. I feel tired, I feel caught in a loop of voices asking me the same questions, I feel playful and sometimes empty, I feel inside an abyss I can step out of and fall back into, but deep down, very deep down, nothing makes much sense. That’s why I act, that’s why I raise my voice to tell you something in your ear, because I want to feel that I’m still here, alive, and that you hear the words leaving my mouth, not necessarily what I have to say. What I have to say isn’t important, not at the end of the day.
2025.08.14
You know, I enjoy using Instagram, and even though every day there’s some new article claiming Instagram and other social networks are dead, I don’t think that’s true; what dies isn’t the platform itself but rather a certain illusion people once had about what it meant to use it. Platforms change, audiences change, and what was once new and exciting is now just part of the background noise. I enjoy seeing what my friends are up to, seeing what artists I admire are doing, and sharing both deep and trivial things. I think Instagram gives you the chance to be whoever you want: someone completely authentic, or the furthest thing from who you really are... someone else entirely. That kind of play, which calls identity into question in chaotic and hopeless times (as always, since there are no other kinds of times, history still has to be written, right?), is just another way of playing the game and spending your time however you want to spend it.
2025.06.21
Sometimes, when the outcome of a work holds more emptiness than active elements, certain viewers feel uneasy. There’s a need to complete it. They want it filled, accessorized, dressed up. As if design were just a collection of objects that must justify themselves through saturation. As if the choice not to add more couldn’t be, in itself, a deliberate choice. But every reading is shaped by the eye of the beholder, and that lens (whether for better or worse) is subjective, personal, and shaped by endless variables.
2025.06.21
A menudo, cuando el resultado de un trabajo contiene más vacío que elementos activos, ciertos observadores experimentan incomodidad. Hay una ansiedad por completarlo. Quieren que se llene, que se accesorice, que se disfrace. Como si el diseño fuera una suma de objetos que deben justificarse por saturación. Como si la decisión de no añadir más cosas no pudiera ser, en sí misma, una postura crítica. Pero toda lectura pasa por el filtro del que observa, y ese filtro, afortunadamente o no, es subjetivo, intransferible y condicionado por variables infinitas (...)
#2025.06.14
Okay, I made it.
It will be mostly in spanish... about 99%?
#2025.05.27
Seriously thinking about starting a substack blog (what was on my mind while staring out the window late at night...)
However, until i release “Am i awake…” i’ll remain in this state... a kind of limbo where i can’t move forward with anything else unless i follow through with what i see as my main project for 2025.
#2025.04.19
Atentamente observando cosas. Lo que no observo, lo sueño. Por lo tanto, no sólo es en la vigilia que se va trazando mi aparente realidad.
#2025.04.19
Back and forth, that’s how 2024 and 2025 unfolded so far. Resting, visiting friends in nyc and london… in other words, traveling, yes, because it’s one of the things I enjoy the most. Leaving BA and returning to BA. Missing my space, my studio. My things: both the big and the small.
As I was saying, I took what we’d call a bit more than a sabbatical year. Though it wasn’t entirely one, since every now and then (especially in recent months), I joined a few very short-term projects.
In my free time, I literally did nothing — but also drew, worked on my personal stuff, studied japanese, hung out online, and truly enjoyed myself, even in the face of occasional dramatic moments, because, of course, life and its story are made of complexity. Without these contrasts, there would be no wheel to our existence, right?
You know, I feel like this photo marks the end of a chapter. Funny how I see it as an ending, not a beginning. In the end, it’s just a strange mix of perceptions. That’s how blurry things can get when one decides to take a position. Worth mentioning I’m not exactly a beach lover, but I was there, and this time I went into the ocean at night and tbh a kind of baptism happened and brought with it new feelings. Warm water touched my skin and I felt like a child… small, almost weightless. If you had seen me there, I think you’d agree: I was no bigger than a baby, or a little dog disappearing into the dark. If the present feels malleable to me, so does my soul. So I felt happy and melancholic, because that made sense.
It’s time to be still? No clue. In the meantime, I’ll return to Buenos Aires to finish my project, and slowly start accepting a few commissions. My practice has improved disproportionately during this looooong break from routine, because I’ve become, quite disproportionately, a little crazy.
#2025.04.06
I find it curious how people see completely different shapes or meanings in one of my recent pieces, not just compared to each other but also to what I see???
#2025.02.28
Two weeks have been spent handling and studying all kinds of paper. I look at them from every perspective, weigh them in my hands, run my fingers over their surfaces with full attention. The closer I look, the more it reveals. Paper has a way of keeping things interesting. I’ll have more to say on this (soon).
#2025.02.10
This is my life now. I’m just getting started, and everything points to 2025 being a year for studying, learning, and taking action— the last one purely in professional terms...
Anyway, if you’re reading this and you speak japanese, I’d be really glad to receive an email from you. You know, I need to practice…
#2025.02.07
Awake against my will
#2025.02.05
Just remembered the fear in a friend's eyes as he worked with almost nothing—just a sentence and/or an image on a poster, and that was all. It made me wonder if I find it easy to “do little” because I’m lazy, or if, in the end, I just don’t care about much at all. I don’t think it’s laziness, but every time I catch myself enjoying stillness, not worrying too much, I start to doubt—maybe that’s just how it is.
#2025.01.12
All this is to say that, although the title of the publication I’m about to release is a question, its content is the product of observation. The images do not answer; they only reveal (re: #2025.01.11 entry)
#2025.01.12
It’s 2025 and it’s refreshing to find people challenging their understanding of the visible. Some stop to think: what exists beyond what I perceive? And sometimes, they go even further: what am I truly observing right now?
#2025.01.11
A few months ago, a friend and I decided not to ask any questions for an entire week. One of the conclusions we reached was that answers can exist without a preceding question. This paradoxically led us to wonder whether there is agency in doubt or if, instead, answers exist without the need for a trigger, floating in a field of potentialities: “Let anyone with eyes to see, see; and anyone with ears to hear, hear.”
#2024.12.12
When working with ideas that come straight from the inner voice, it’s key to stay away from other images for at least 24 hours, meaning a full day. Sometimes it can be less, but that depends on each person. Unless a sudden wave of inspiration happens, this isolation is necessary, almost like a retreat—with celibacy, silence, and all that. Often, choosing darkness and avoiding mirrors completely can really help.
#2024.12.12
El acto de convertir lo que “todavía no ha sido nombrado” (por ejemplo, un sueño) en algo visible es, en esencia, lenguaje en acción. Puesto que el lenguaje puede ser caótico, frustrante y, muchas veces, insuficiente, incluso podría decidir que todo es una mentira, aunque regrese a recuerdos que demuestren lo contrario.
Mi proyecto actual consiste en identificar una serie de eventos que ocurren en el plano de los sueños, tomando nota al despertar y, con la ayuda de la memoria a largo plazo, determinar su desarrollo o entender de qué se trata, para, finalmente, graficarlo.
El lenguaje comienza a involucrarse. La relectura de notas, la palabra hablada o bien recordar un sueño ahora sólo conforman el acto de ponerle un nombre a cada cosa: una estrella sostenida por alguien que podría estar admirándola o mirando hacia otro lado… un suelo sólido, por deducción… y un background que no dice nada, a menos que alguien se proponga que diga algo. A continuación, reflexiono si debo tomar distancia o perder el control –o la ilusión de perder el control– para seguir. Pero también reflexiono lo contrario: necesito control –o la ilusión de control– para ejecutar. Siendo ambivalente en numerosos aspectos de la vida, si todo da lo mismo, entonces puedo actuar de manera opuesta, aunque eso también podría ser una mentira, un condicionamiento, una de tantas capas.
#2024.11.26
Guys. I often draw guys. Not necessarily guys per se, but they seem to have a life of their own, so the word guys works. Over the years, several clients have asked me for guys. The list of guys I’ve created is quite long.
Sometimes, they weren’t what the clients expected, and the truth is, it was never about what the client expected—it was about what I expected from this new guy coming into the world. In a way, I stopped making guys for others when I realized I was making them for myself. So, I keep drawing guys now and then. But they’re my guys. You will find them around the living room or studio, on computers and paper. They travel if I take my laptop; otherwise, they stay locked at home, aging.
Drawing guys is fun, it’s a learning process, and you can even give them very specific traits or qualities. Developing profiles for a guy is an exercise in imagination, and imagination is as essential as breathing or sleeping. Drawing guys feels like living a crazy social life, but in a completely different way?
#2024.11.17
In 2023, I went on a personal retreat with the goal of clearing my mind in every possible way a human could “let go of the weight of city life, of society.” I reached a state of calm and well-being, but then, out of nowhere, something peculiar happened: all my dreams were about teddy bears. It’s worth mentioning that I like stuffed animals in any form, but in this case, it was only bears. Day, afternoon, night—bears. The world felt like one big bear to me.
I didn’t see it as something personal but rather contextual, tied to the reality I had perceived until then, and I decided to draw them. I had my iPad with me, which made things easier.
It’s almost 2025 & my dreams have shifted to three completely different, seemingly unrelated things. I’m now working on them, planning to compile and publish them next year.
#2024.10.23
#2024.10.21
Every time I try to look at myself, I don’t see myself—I see my past. What I perceive is a distance, an attempt to hold the present in my hands, like a small bird, and crush it. But there is no bird. There is only anguish and alienation. There’s nothing I can say about myself right now, because the present doesn’t exist.
#2024.10.13
A week ago, I noticed that my handwriting had changed. It wasn’t something I did consciously, but when I looked at my notebook, realized it wasn’t my writing. I mean, I thought it was just a mistake, but now, every time I write, my handwriting changes even more. It gets rounder, more slanted, more like someone else’s, someone who isn’t me. Writing has become a strange experience, as if another person is somehow leaving me messages I don’t necessarily understand.
#2024.10.13
The door to my hotel room seems to breathe. At first, I thought it was the wind, but no, it’s as if the wood itself inhales and exhales, softly, every time I get close. I can feel the rhythm under my fingers when I touch the frame. Some nights I wake up and hear that same sound, but deeper, as if the door were tired.
#umeshu, fixation, 1:1
If we consider the sense of agency in every action we take, does it change anything? Are we changing things? Ourselves? Does it even matter?
#2024.09.21
Yesterday, talking to a friend who was unsure about some decisions he needed to make, I suggested he listen to some of his favorite songs. I told him he’d find the answer there. Music has the ability to connect with deep emotions and influence important decisions. It’s not about acting impulsively, but realizing that sometimes the most genuine answers don’t align with what’s considered safe or practical in modern life.
I’d been doing this—“listening to music to make decisions”—for years without thinking much about it. Then, after an experience in the Heathrow airport lounge, I decided to turn it into a tool I could rely on. It was night, and I was answering emails and thinking about what I wanted for the next few months. At the time, I was assisting a software company creatively. While I was comfortable and optimistic with the roadmap we had, I couldn’t find the time to focus on my own interests and more intimate pursuits. In short, I wanted to do nothing: to have as much free time as possible to explore what I could accomplish.
As I mentioned, I was in the airport lounge, full of doubts. To lift my spirits, I put on a record and, while listening to a particular song, I felt moved and experienced this strange sensation of depersonalization; suddenly, I knew what to do and how to do it.
The next month, I started a new chapter without certainties but, most notably, without doubts. I found myself facing an open, carefree, and fertile landscape, in silence.
#2024.09.21
Ayer, mientras hablaba con un amigo que estaba indeciso sobre qué camino seguir, le sugerí que escuchara algunas de sus canciones favoritas; le dije que ahí encontraría la respuesta. La música tiene la capacidad de conectar con las emociones más profundas del ser humano, llevándolo a estados que pueden influir en la toma de decisiones importantes. No se trata de actuar impulsivamente, sino de entender que a veces las respuestas más genuinas no coinciden con lo que es considerado seguro o conveniente en la vida moderna.
La cosa es que yo llevaba años haciendo esto de “escuchar música para tomar decisiones” sin pensarlo demasiado hasta que, tras una experiencia en el lounge del aeropuerto de Heathrow, lo formalicé como una herramienta personal. Era de noche, estaba respondiendo e-mails y pensando en lo que quería para los próximos meses. En ese momento, asistía creativamente a una compañía de software. Si bien me sentía a gusto y optimista con el roadmap trazado, no podía encontrar un momento para enfocarme en mis disciplinas y exploraciones más íntimas. Quería, en pocas palabras, no hacer nada: tener tanto tiempo libre como fuera posible para descubrir de qué era capaz.
Como decía, estaba en el lounge del aeropuerto, llena de dudas. Para subir los ánimos puse un disco y, al escuchar una canción en particular, me emocioné y tuve esta extraña sensación de despersonalización cuando de repente supe qué hacer y cómo hacerlo.
Al mes siguiente, inicié una nueva etapa sin certezas pero, lo que es más notable, sin inquietudes. Estaba frente a un escenario plano, despreocupado y fértil, silencioso.
#2024.09.15
Dejé las luces encendidas en el hotel para poder ver todo lo que desconozco. Se puede observar lo que no se conoce desde la cama o a ras del suelo. También es posible detenerse en una esquina o subirse a una silla. Cuando se ha visto lo suficiente, basta con apagar las luces y contemplar cómo la luz que entra por la ventana se posa sobre las mismas cosas, desintegrando lentamente sus cualidades distintivas. Algo más: me gusta cuando algo que parecía quieto de repente se cae en mitad de la noche. Parece un intento de escapar de la oscuridad o, quizás, una llamada de atención con la cual no tengo ninguna relación.
#2024.09.15
#2024.09.05
It's getting late, and the windows begin to reflect the inside of the room. I hear a party in the distance, but not too far. I drink coffee on the floor, looking at the cup and the coffee as well. I look at the carpets, the bed, the sheets, and the ceiling. I look at the door and through the peephole as a hysterical girl runs down the hallway. Then, back inside, I notice a pair of dirty socks and underwear lying on the toilet. My hair is completely wet. Then I look at the computer, and it's glitching. I check my emails and finally search for the music library, letting some songs play. I look at myself reflected in the windows and start dancing, with slow and fast moves. It's not just about me but about the light and the dark doing their own thing.
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