One of the memories that lived on my childhood was the sensation to be able to fly. At the age of eleven years in the hot weather of Sinaloa and surrounded by an accumulation of fantasies, I felt that I flew transformed into a personage of my readings, obsessed by heroes and of swordfighters. Without even then imagined that, those where already splits of the creative exercise that I would dedicate my life to.

Nowadays, that I sit in my desk, they are born in paper and pencil, objects and personages that have brought between the heart and the eyes for many years (no matter how people say you always save this memories in your unconscious) memories inked of a distant past, to which I love and I sing. Painted of blurry sadnesses or memories of a recent past as sublime as receiving a kiss infront of the sea. Can you call Inspiration to bring dreams from the past? ... Painting, drawing, or designing will be perhaps the incredibly private forms of being yourself and without a minimum of modesty to show the pearls that you have kept in deep inside of you?.. Can we call it Your Garden of the delights? ... Or it will be the inspiration a measureless solitude with the one that we are born? ...

In this great family of objects and personages there are them of hardly character, plaintiffs of their own light that are born asking gold, silver and color, other they ask (as the bronze) austerity… but I do know them as if they were my children, everyone have their own music and are very sensitive to love.

These beings some inexplicable in sight, so natural to the touch, they speak for them selfs, (they have affinity). When the sun sings we all sing. We celebrate it with clothes of lived colors that reflect its light, sun has been God and here in Mexico we have built him temples and pyramids, therefore he has been a key piece in the imaginary robe that covers my work.

I want my work to be part of a beautiful, indelible and emotional legacy. As personal as a dream. Because each work has been interpreted (created) by the look of each observer and (as falling in love) the Observer has seen what he wanted to see, giving my work an incomparable spiritual value in terms of money.

Being Mexican has been to me, a blessing. México have turned me eternally a child , always travelling (as my personages) in a fish. With an imagination as the smile of a wathermelon, alone holding the bicycle that I never had, hugging a cloud, missing a family, excited with the love, surrounded by my personages that sprinkle the colors of México and that they express on its on way, what is and what has been to be Mexican.