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Entre aparecer y ser
Welcome to my portfolio. This is a journey through my work, where each piece is part of an ongoing process. It brings together works that originate from different perspectives but share a common intention: to reinterpret reality from a more personal and conscious point of view.
Click on each piece to see more details.
'Trinchera'
During a period when I couldn't process what was happening to me, I built mechanisms to continue existing without being completely overwhelmed. I didn't do it consciously. The body and mind know how to protect themselves even when you don't know you need protection.
The blows are evidence that my trench did its job.
But protection comes at a cost that isn't always immediately visible. Over time, the refuge becomes a habit. The "I don't know" that was initially honest becomes automatic. And what began as a shield ends up becoming the distance between who you are and yourself.
Today I recognize that as the silent cunning of someone who doesn't know how to ask for help, but does know how not to disappear completely. Although, paradoxically, in that attempt to survive, I became invisible, first to others, then to myself.
This work opens the series because it represents the origin. Not the problem, but the mechanism that sustained it. Everything that comes after is born from here, from this refuge that kept me alive and that, at the same time, extinguished me.
Click on each image to see more details.
The blows are evidence that my trench did its job.
But protection comes at a cost that isn't always immediately visible. Over time, the refuge becomes a habit. The "I don't know" that was initially honest becomes automatic. And what began as a shield ends up becoming the distance between who you are and yourself.
Today I recognize that as the silent cunning of someone who doesn't know how to ask for help, but does know how not to disappear completely. Although, paradoxically, in that attempt to survive, I became invisible, first to others, then to myself.
This work opens the series because it represents the origin. Not the problem, but the mechanism that sustained it. Everything that comes after is born from here, from this refuge that kept me alive and that, at the same time, extinguished me.
Click on each image to see more details.
'6-7'
Could this be the first time I said “I don’t know”?
I didn’t know it then, but this is how we begin to disappear: with an answer no one questions.
Click on each image to see more details.
I didn’t know it then, but this is how we begin to disappear: with an answer no one questions.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Inercia'
In this work, I use a completely everyday action to address automatism from a more intimate and personal place. Brushing your teeth is a gesture we repeat every day to the point of doing it without thinking, and it was precisely there that I found something I was interested in exploring: the body's capacity to continue functioning even when the mind is far away, or absent.
The painting arises from that feeling of existing on autopilot, of going through mechanical routines while emotionally disconnected. I'm interested in how certain domestic actions, seemingly insignificant, can reveal internal states difficult to explain in words. I don't see this scene as a simple act of hygiene, but as a silent reflection of exhaustion, repetition, and incomplete presence.
Within the series, this work represents one of the points most closely linked to automatism: that state in which actions continue to occur, even though emotionally one is not fully present.
On the other hand, this painting was the first I'd done in a long time, and in a way, it also stemmed from a need to honor myself, to acknowledge my scars, and to give form to that Oscar who continues to work on making himself visible and allowing himself to exist in front of himself and others.
Click on each image to see more details.
The painting arises from that feeling of existing on autopilot, of going through mechanical routines while emotionally disconnected. I'm interested in how certain domestic actions, seemingly insignificant, can reveal internal states difficult to explain in words. I don't see this scene as a simple act of hygiene, but as a silent reflection of exhaustion, repetition, and incomplete presence.
Within the series, this work represents one of the points most closely linked to automatism: that state in which actions continue to occur, even though emotionally one is not fully present.
On the other hand, this painting was the first I'd done in a long time, and in a way, it also stemmed from a need to honor myself, to acknowledge my scars, and to give form to that Oscar who continues to work on making himself visible and allowing himself to exist in front of himself and others.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Borramiento'
While working on this series in therapy, a word came up that immediately resonated with me: erasure. My therapist used it to describe states related to repression, dissociation, and depersonalization. Although at the time I didn't know how to explain it, I recognized something of myself in that idea.
This work stems from that feeling of not being able to perceive oneself clearly. The distorted and partially blurred image doesn't represent a total absence, but rather an identity that exists in an unstable way; a presence that constantly appears and disappears before its own eyes.
The strangest thing about erasure is that it often happens without one noticing. Only later, as I began to see myself more clearly and recognize myself more honestly, was I able to understand how long I had inhabited that distance from myself.
Within the series, this work represents a moment of incomplete perception. There is no absolute disappearance, but neither is there a fixed or defined image. It is the attempt to look at oneself when it is still difficult to remain fully present to oneself.
Click on each image to see more details.
This work stems from that feeling of not being able to perceive oneself clearly. The distorted and partially blurred image doesn't represent a total absence, but rather an identity that exists in an unstable way; a presence that constantly appears and disappears before its own eyes.
The strangest thing about erasure is that it often happens without one noticing. Only later, as I began to see myself more clearly and recognize myself more honestly, was I able to understand how long I had inhabited that distance from myself.
Within the series, this work represents a moment of incomplete perception. There is no absolute disappearance, but neither is there a fixed or defined image. It is the attempt to look at oneself when it is still difficult to remain fully present to oneself.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Desarmado'
This box was once my trench.
When assembled, it protected me without asking permission. Inside it, I learned to say “I don’t know.” It was the only honest answer I could offer when I had no way to name what was happening to me.
But over time, a refuge stops being a refuge and becomes a habit. And without us realizing it, that habit begins to sustain itself.
“I don’t know” is now just a remnant. Evidence of what I once had to build to survive, and of what I am now able to let go of to make room for myself.
Letting go of this meant recognizing that I no longer needed the shield, and that “I don’t know,” too, could finally be left on the floor.
Click on each image to see more details.
When assembled, it protected me without asking permission. Inside it, I learned to say “I don’t know.” It was the only honest answer I could offer when I had no way to name what was happening to me.
But over time, a refuge stops being a refuge and becomes a habit. And without us realizing it, that habit begins to sustain itself.
“I don’t know” is now just a remnant. Evidence of what I once had to build to survive, and of what I am now able to let go of to make room for myself.
Letting go of this meant recognizing that I no longer needed the shield, and that “I don’t know,” too, could finally be left on the floor.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Diván'
On this couch, I learned something I deeply value today, as I look at it from a few meters away, week after week: I learned to listen to myself.
One of the things I resisted most about therapy was the idea of saying what I think to “a stranger.” The couch changed that for me. When the therapist moves out of my field of vision, self-censorship eases. It becomes easier to revisit the past and allow myself to be guided.
This couch and my therapist have done more for me than they can imagine.
This work, with a suggested silhouette, is my way of expressing gratitude and honoring what remains when someone keeps showing up, even when few people notice.
Click on each image to see more details.
One of the things I resisted most about therapy was the idea of saying what I think to “a stranger.” The couch changed that for me. When the therapist moves out of my field of vision, self-censorship eases. It becomes easier to revisit the past and allow myself to be guided.
This couch and my therapist have done more for me than they can imagine.
This work, with a suggested silhouette, is my way of expressing gratitude and honoring what remains when someone keeps showing up, even when few people notice.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Llaves'
These are the keys to my apartment.
They represent one of the most conscious decisions I’ve ever made: to seek a space of my own, a place where I could simply be.
These keys hold the memory of all the good things I experienced there, but also of the space I created for myself, where I began to allow myself to believe.
This is where this series began.
Click on each image to see more details.
They represent one of the most conscious decisions I’ve ever made: to seek a space of my own, a place where I could simply be.
These keys hold the memory of all the good things I experienced there, but also of the space I created for myself, where I began to allow myself to believe.
This is where this series began.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Habitar'
In this work, I use the physical sensation of wet clothes as a metaphor for visibility and the experience of fully inhabiting the body. When clothes are dry, they cease to be felt; they become a silent extension of the body, something that exists but can be easily ignored, almost as if invisible. But when they are soaked, everything changes: they become heavy, they cling to the skin, and they make it impossible to ignore every movement; they become uncomfortable.
This painting arises from that transition between existing in a distant way and beginning to recognize oneself through presence. For a long time, my body was something functional but disconnected (although I didn't know it at the time), like something that traversed space without truly inhabiting it. In this work, I wanted to represent the moment when that distance disappears and existence becomes conscious. Where I finally began to manage my Being.
I am not interested in water as a symbol of destruction, but of revelation. Wet clothes do not hide the body; they delineate it, expose it, and make it impossible to deny. Similarly, becoming visible involves confronting the emotional weight of occupying space, of being present, and of acknowledging what was previously dormant or disconnected.
Within the series, this work represents one of the most emotionally intense moments.
Click on each image to see more details.
This painting arises from that transition between existing in a distant way and beginning to recognize oneself through presence. For a long time, my body was something functional but disconnected (although I didn't know it at the time), like something that traversed space without truly inhabiting it. In this work, I wanted to represent the moment when that distance disappears and existence becomes conscious. Where I finally began to manage my Being.
I am not interested in water as a symbol of destruction, but of revelation. Wet clothes do not hide the body; they delineate it, expose it, and make it impossible to deny. Similarly, becoming visible involves confronting the emotional weight of occupying space, of being present, and of acknowledging what was previously dormant or disconnected.
Within the series, this work represents one of the most emotionally intense moments.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Ser'
And from this moment on, I celebrate myself every day.
What is the price we pay to make ourselves visible? The previous works documented that process from within: the rigidity of someone living as if inside a box, the absence of someone moving through life on autopilot, the effort of someone trying to recognize themselves, the physical weight of someone beginning to feel but not yet knowing what to do with it, and the scars left by that process. This scene does not continue that process. It celebrates it.
The earlier versions are still there, but they no longer occupy the same space. They are no longer him. Yet they have not entirely disappeared either, because to say goodbye to them, I first had to acknowledge them. That is what I try to do with this work.
And then, there is me. The person who celebrates who he is today, and who he always wished to be. But more than that, the person who bids farewell to everything that brought him here.
Click on each image to see more details.
What is the price we pay to make ourselves visible? The previous works documented that process from within: the rigidity of someone living as if inside a box, the absence of someone moving through life on autopilot, the effort of someone trying to recognize themselves, the physical weight of someone beginning to feel but not yet knowing what to do with it, and the scars left by that process. This scene does not continue that process. It celebrates it.
The earlier versions are still there, but they no longer occupy the same space. They are no longer him. Yet they have not entirely disappeared either, because to say goodbye to them, I first had to acknowledge them. That is what I try to do with this work.
And then, there is me. The person who celebrates who he is today, and who he always wished to be. But more than that, the person who bids farewell to everything that brought him here.
Click on each image to see more details.
'Territorio'
The nopal is native to San Luis Potosí. A plant that learned to protect itself with thorns and endure in an arid, demanding landscape.
This series began with someone hidden beneath a box and ends here, in a territory that is not my own. I arrived different from how I began. After learning to show up for myself, I had to learn how to exist beyond the places where I felt comfortable.
The morpho butterfly does not belong in this landscape, yet it settles there all the same. That is what I wanted to paint: proof that, after learning to recognize myself, the world also became a place I could inhabit.
Click on each image to see more details.
This series began with someone hidden beneath a box and ends here, in a territory that is not my own. I arrived different from how I began. After learning to show up for myself, I had to learn how to exist beyond the places where I felt comfortable.
The morpho butterfly does not belong in this landscape, yet it settles there all the same. That is what I wanted to paint: proof that, after learning to recognize myself, the world also became a place I could inhabit.
Click on each image to see more details.
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Whether it's about my work or something that resonated with you, feel free to write to me. This space is open for questions, ideas, or opportunities. I'll get back to you soon.
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