(x)

2026.10.23
I think the fact that I’m looking for land in rural Buenos Aires to get away from the city is, in part, an attempt to get away from the internet too.

2026.10.21
My pencil collection is pretty vast, with all kinds of sizes, colors and lead grades… on top of that, I keep four big boxes of paper in different weights, textures and tones. None of them look quite the same and they’ve all come from different places. I mean, each one has its own story…. In fact a lot of the paper I keep comes from hours spent in stationery shops, feeling the samples and leaning in close to see how the surface catches the light from different angles.

2026.10.17
Reactivating my substack because it feels like a good time to switch things up a little. I’ll be here and there (and on door), mixing spanish and english as usual.

2026.10.15
My website is basically my social media now.

2026.10.04
There’s only one place where you’re completely safe, even from yourself.

2026.10.04

La importancia del grounding. Buenos Aires, siempre Buenos Aires. Octubre 2026.

2026.09.27
I’m feeling a little visually overloaded. I wonder how long this can go on. The mass production of graphics at record speed is already here, and it’s become part of everyday life. Against that, looking at the graphics in a book or magazine requires a different kind of time. That’s where I find some refuge... slowing down, paying attention to the smallest details as well as the bigger decisions, and recognizing the skill, judgment, and time of the people who made them.

2026.09.03
Always noticing certain positive or cheerful quality in my work, which feels unfamiliar to me because I rarely experience things that way, nor can I see the world from such a bright place. I try, of course, against every clinical diagnosis, but perhaps my way of doing so is to convey a sense of optimism, allowing others to see the world from a different perspective, one that doesn’t belong to me, because I am, in fact, a sad person, and I tend to look at things with melancholic intentions.

2026.08.13
it’s time to go back to your website and put your time and attention into how it’s structured and what you choose to put there... that’s where your virtual space is, first and foremost.

2026.08.13
there seems to be a renewed interest in personal websites. i mean, there has always been something about the one-way nature of a website that paradoxically creates this strange kind of virtual intimacy… somehow, you’re left there alone, exposed to whoever enters and decides to go through the whole thing from beginning to end, following a structure and a path you’ve built yourself.

it takes me back to a time when having an online presence basically meant an email address and, eventually, a website… then, of course, the first platforms for connecting with other people came along and i have to admit blogger was my favorite: I spent a good part of the early 2000s there writing and sharing poems and prose.

we all know how the rest of the story goes.

now, after redesigning my website, i’m still trying to decide whether to include newer work, older work, everything, or keep some of it here and some of it on social media, which feels very much like a product of this era, right? sometimes I think this fragmentation of information and with it of identity, professional or otherwise, seems to be pushing some people to rethink their relationship with these platforms or even leave them altogether... of course, the digital footprint is still there, but maybe it’s possible to have a healthier, more organized online life, one that feels less fragmented… and perhaps this desire for wholeness comes with a desire for authenticity too???

(just thinking out loud)

i find it exciting to see friends and colleagues putting time and care into their websites again, so just keep going, keep going, keep going please.

2026.06.15
When I’m feeling down, I travel. When I need inspiration, I travel. Of course, you don’t necessarily have to leave your own city to feel inspired, but I have a soft spot for waking up somewhere different and feeling a little vulnerable, then coming back home with, maybe, a few new stimuli. I think traveling, whenever we’re able to, allows us to see beyond the reality we’ve built for our lives, the one we’ve chosen. It’s important to remember that choosing has no limits.

2026.05.27
For a long time, my work moved across different industries and all kinds of collaborations, but over the last two years I slowly began distancing myself from that position. I’m still very involved: reading, learning, observing, and trying to understand not so much the technical aspects, but what actually takes place within the work itself; the behaviors, methodologies, and dynamics that allow certain processes of thought to eventually materialize into something concrete. That remains, for me, genuinely enriching.

I won’t go too deeply into this… Working for others gradually started to feel repetitive, as if working in those terms no longer had much left to offer me. Occasionally, I still enjoy it. Maybe for a while, things needed to be that way, and understanding when a phase has come to an end is part of any experience.
At the same time, I’m aware that graphic design, much like writing, continues to occupy a central place in my life. It remains one of the few paths I know that can bring me into a state of genuine attention. There is probably a spiritual dimension to that, although it’s not something I’m particularly interested in developing right now.

Long story short, I’ll continue collaborating on projects for others but in a much more selective and considerably reduced way. 2026 became a turning point for me; it left me with new criteria regarding how, with whom, and for what purpose I choose to involve myself in certain kinds of work. In the same way that years ago I got into this through intuition, possibility, and necessity, today I feel the need to direct that energy elsewhere.

Part of the shift also led me to become more involved in other people’s creative processes. I started noticing that my interest was no longer only in producing work, but also in accompanying and pushing people toward a more open approach, less conditioned by inherited structures, trends, platforms, or immediate market demands. Questioning a discipline, revisiting it, handling it from every possible angle, often means recovering a freer relationship with thought, with making, and with paths of experimentation that still preserve a certain margin of uncertainty and play.

2026.05.27
Playing is extremely important. Playing means imagining a world with your toys, becoming part of it, and then throwing every piece of it against the wall. Remember that every day you can return to your toys, and they will never be the same as they were the day before.

2026.03.09
I find a certain value in not being completely aligned with every emerging tool or contemporary workflow, in not assuming that every way of thinking and making has to pass through the same software, the same systems, the same accelerated pace. In this sense, the method also works as a way of staying close to what one knows how to do. There is little more to say about it. It either is or it isn’t. It’s simply personal, and personal truths rarely require further justification.

2026.02.10
Try every tool. Have fun and allow yourself everything. On days when you don’t know how to move a project forward, step away from your tools for a while. Go a little crazy and struggle. Look for feedback only when it’s strictly necessary. Go for walks, buy magazines, look at what was happening in design before figma/canva/ai/2026. There’s a whole world of information waiting to be discovered.

2026.02.10
Validation is shit.

2025.11.25
Active observation means understanding that nothing exists outside the present. Everything happens here. You choose to act (or not) based on what’s in front of you right now. When a person lives for the future, that person isn’t really here; the mind drifts forward, weightless, like a cloud that moves and eventually disappears. In that distance, contact with what’s essential fades, along with the part of reality that connects to the heart of things.

Contemplating a snake, Tokyo, November 2025

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.

2025.02.28
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).

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?

2024.10.21
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.

2024.09.15

@ Jimbōchō Book Town, Tokyo. September 2024

2024.08.12
Varias veces al año tomo un descanso de la ciudad: dejo mi apartamento en Buenos Aires y me dirijo a la zona rural, donde realmente puedo estar sola y pasar por ciertas experiencias que ahora describiré. He estado haciendo esto desde muy joven y ha sido una gran herramienta creativa.
Cuando el sol se pone y me siento fuera de la cabaña, observando cómo las aves regresan a sus nidos y las copas densas de los árboles forman una sola línea negra en el horizonte, los sentimientos se transforman, adquiriendo cualidades fuertes—a veces sombrías y otras veces profundamente liberadoras.
Cuando me permito observar cómo funciona la naturaleza, como si acabara de ser arrojada al mundo, los ritmos y pausas -el propósito divino de las cosas pequeñas y grandes- son implacables.
Cuando llega el amanecer, parece que todo comienza de nuevo. El amanecer se siente como una actuación orquestal. Se levanta un telón (la luz), los animales salen de sus cuevas para interactuar y responder al llamado (orquesta), y el día se convierte en algo que puedo ver y escuchar, percibir (la pieza orquestal). Este re-despertar de los sentidos alivia los sentimientos oscuros y la pesadez de la noche. Es importante notar que ambos son lo mismo visto desde diferentes ángulos, y sólo se polarizan a medida que pasan las horas.

Cuando tomo estas notas, muchas veces me doy cuenta de que no hay nada que entender.

2024.07.29
The inspiration that comes in the middle of sleep contains the darkness of the night. As we take refuge from the dangers of nocturnal animals or seek shelter and rest after handling a bunch of tasks, the darkness arrives to reveal more intimate and enigmatic aspects of the mind and our understanding of life and ordinary things. The day provides clarity on objects; the light settles on them, and we see what is in the distance. At night we can't see far beyond, indicating that it is time to focus on what is close to us, to look at ourselves from head to toe in front of a mirror, trying to understand what it's all for, and then look within ourselves. The night is an invitation: many sleep, human activities cease, and what happens then is behind closed doors. Actions taken in these quiet moments can be secrets, hidden from view.

2024.06.13
The sound of my own footsteps heading back are the most striking sounds while walking through the financial district. In the distance, a siren or a honk is relatively occasional – I must say, when it finally becomes night, finding out from high above that I am completely alone indeed grants me the privilege of being close to strange thoughts… I point through the window at the empty neighboring towers, the streetlights, the few trees, and the avenue, deciding what is right and what is wrong, as if such a thing is possible and then, mentally exhausted, I turn off the lights and Zzz.

2024.02.08
If you half-close your eyes while looking at some images, you can still discern their origin. Similarly, if you partially cover your ears when listening to certain sounds, you can still identify their source. Unique features mark the nature of things, yet they can be replicated. The challenge for people today is to distinguish the original from the replica.

2023.05.22
I've been working on a particular figure, and finally achieved it. As I was working on it, I had this thought that whether shapes are considered infinite or not depends on how we look at them, both from a mathematical and creative perspective. The possibilities for shaping and reshaping our visual world are vast and constantly evolving.

(Return)