I was born in Missões, region of southern Brazil, a land of women who don't ask permission to be free, like Anita Garibaldi. A land where threads already existed before me, in the hands of Guarani women who wove the world long before it was given any name.

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I have lived in countries that have left marks on me, marks that now inhabit my tapestry. From Switzerland I brought the mountains. Sometimes snowy, sometimes vibrant green, and the silence that only immensity teaches. From the United States, the urban vibrancy, the uncontained expression. From Belgium, I learned that art can be light, ironic, satirical, and that humor is also a form of truth. From Portugal, I received the memory of the stitches: the ancestrality of the Arraiolos stitches, an ancient and rare technique that the world threatens to forget, and which deeply inspires my work.

 

When I weave, my mind wanders. I enter a flow, like entering the sea. And the sea appears in my works because that's what I am while I work: movement, waves, nothing that needs to be straight or rigid.

 

Life isn't geometric. Neither is my art.

 

Each thread represents time. Each passage, a layer of who I was and where I've been. My tapestry doesn't decorate walls. It tells the story of where I come from, what I've been through, and what I refuse to let die.

 

When you stand before one of my works, you are confronted with all of these geographies. And perhaps, also, with something of your own.