When all other girls would play with dolls, kitchen play sets and balls, I spent hours drawing. You couldn’t peel me off my drawing block. I went on to study painting restoration. I learnt different painting techniques and got acquainted with the style of classic artists. I decided to try it for myself and for years I felt in my own flesh and bone the wide array of neck pains that restorers of ceiling frescos are all too familiar with. After that chapter was over, I kept painting, but only informally, for pleasure and vital necessity. I focused on acrylic technique: landscapes with stark horizons, portraits of interesting characters, and the like.
In 2013, when I sensed the advent of my worst life crisis (I was verging on my 40th birthday), that I decided to beat depression to the draw and do what I’d always dreamed of: turn my passion into my job. I enrolled in a postgraduate degree in Creative Illustration in Barcelona, squeezing it into my office workday.
I started to live a double life: Clark Kent in the office during the day, and Superman at night, slaving away on homework until the wee hours of the morning. It wasn’t until a few months later, after graduation and a lot of practice, that I started to find my footing: a fresher, more spontaneous style, with less focus on realism, but much more personality.
In the end, I started experimenting with a technique that was the opposite of what I had been doing until then: I went from subdued acrylics to bleeding watercolors, without worrying too much about perspective or proportions. A fresher drawing, more spontaneous style, with less focus on realism, but much more personality. Suddenly, I was that little girl who sat at a table with her crayons and forgot about the world.
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