🧵👇/My journey in life and art. How I moved from Brazil to London going through 20+ countries exhibiting my artworks in 3 different continents, around 20 years doing graffiti/streetart. Overcoming homeless and not giving up my mission in life=arts. And now continuing in NFTs🚀

Art

I wipe away the askew blue line before it fully dries: sometimes erasure is the clarity.

There’s a certain poetry in seeing life and art as a series of assembled parts, each offering its own spark of insight. The self becomes a gathering of experiences, each one finding a place in the composition.

When words stop flowing, my hand finds its way back to drawing: automatic, instinctive lines. Painting calls me back, and the joy comes with it. It’s in the moments between brushstrokes, in the hesitation, the staring, the doubting, that the real struggle lies. But when the brush moves, the mind clears.

But I still believe real change can begin quietly, like a brushstroke. A turn. A choice to see clearly, and create anyway.

Each piece feels like a message in a bottle, sent out without knowing where it will land.

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Trusting uncertainty has brought the most clarity.

I want something more, something that shakes me to the core. There’s a pressure building, pushing me towards something bold, something big.

Art is like travel, stepping into the unknown. Each journey builds skill, memory, and resilience.

I reset with a hard blink. I’m too tense. I fix my attention on the room: the canvas, the brush in my hand, the chess knight on the windowsill. Its familiar shape reminds me to hold my horses.

But artists? It’s always been about something else. I’ve learnt artists aren’t valued for their hours, but for what only they can see.

Every stroke restores the freedom art provides: a space where creativity transcends boundaries.

For a long time, Kandinsky was hailed as the pioneer of abstraction, his vibrant colours breaking free from tradition. But when Hilma’s long-hidden works finally surfaced, the story changed. Her paintings, created in secret with a spiritual urgency, revealed a hidden beginning, one driven less by breaking rules than by listening for something beyond them.

Paint speaks where words stall.

A decision for later.

So I flipped the story: a passport in my bag, no settled place in the world. I belonged everywhere and nowhere.

But the act of painting breaks that trance. Each stroke reminds me: art didn’t just change my life; it became the lens I see through.