I work with layers, much as a geologist works with layers. Or how an anatomist works with layers. My layers peel away, to reveal. They overlap, narrating new formations. They cascade, they orbit, they dissipate. My work is born as fragments—disparate pieces that lean into each other, are stitched, glued, snapped, hung, fastened, tied or even hair-sprayed together. I am interested in layers beyond mere artistic technique. To me, layers are accumulated memory, history, time.
My practice is driven by the twin urges to deconstruct and to reconstruct. My artistic foundation is highly classical—etching, drawing, tempera painting. Yet I weld this classicism to a material experimentation through which I explore territories as vast as the teeming universe of microscopic organisms—cellular cavities, slithered tissue, amoeba-like, shape-shifting forms —to the musculature of the human body—speedo-clad Olympic torsos splayed across diptychs
—and even the cosmos and the tentative cosmic order.
Recently, these layered works present a bi-cultural appropriation linking popular handicraft techniques of Bedouin women in the UAE, my current home, with vessels, iconic shapes and folk crafts, mainly from the Brazilian countryside of my youth. Dreamscapes, you could call them, incorporating the oneiric images of primordial nights against the spherical backdrop of the darkened al-khous weaves.