Class of 1991, I was born and raised in a small town in the Po Valley, though my roots are in Puglia.

I’ve been drawing since I first figured out how to hold a pencil. As a child, my dream was either to draw for Disney or become an inventor.

I spent my middle school years reading manga and doodling on my school desk. Around the age of 16, I discovered my love for photography. The first time I heard the click of the shutter, something clicked inside me as well. I bought a second-hand reflex camera and started capturing my life on film.

For the next two to three years, I developed about a roll of film per week. But after a while, I felt like being constantly behind the camera and obsessing over capturing everything was keeping me from fully enjoying the experiences I was living. So I set the camera aside (a decision I regret to this day).

In 2012, I moved to Bologna to attend my third year at the Academy of Fine Arts. It was there that I discovered conceptual art and fell in love with Arte Povera.

I threw myself into my studies, without missing out on long nights wandering the streets with my fellow artists. Probably the most fun years of my life so far—10/10.

At the same time, deep insecurities began to surface. My inner critic was fierce. I wasn't satisfied with anything I produced, and the comparison to my peers felt overwhelming.

During those years I let many opportunities slip through my hands due to my insecurities.

Despite that, I graduated on time for both my bachelor's and master’s degrees. My second thesis was titled "Expressions and transformations of nature within the urban fabric" and was accompanied by a conceptual installation, though I have no photos of it.

I spent the next few years in a post-graduation haze, feeling my way through life, unsure of what to do, wobbly and vaguely depressed. I did odd jobs to get by, trying to paint and learning bookbinding in my free time.

I finally found a job at a discount store, which quickly consumed me, both mentally and physically. Art stayed in the back of my mind. Occasionally, I would try to paint or draw, but I hated everything I created. I had no direction or serious artistic aspirations, and I couldn’t even find joy in the creative process—just frustration and negative thoughts.

Years of inner turmoil passed: the discount store wasn't where I belonged, and I knew I would leave, but what would I do? Would I ever give myself a real chance and take the leap?

Something clicked inside me, and I decided it was time to take control of my life. I quit without having a plan, I leap into the void.

From that moment on, I started working on myself non-stop. I learned to confront my shadows and not let my insecurities crush me. I painted wooden panels in bright colors, then covered them with grey or black. Once dry, I scratched the surface to reveal the colors underneath. I felt like I was unveiling a new part of myself, forcing myself to be reborn. It was an incredibly painful process, but going through it was the only way to change.

In my mind, I kept hearing the words of my high school teacher: "Always remember, you are a painter." A phrase I had never believed.

I left the wooden panels behind and continued facing my shadows with canvases and acrylics. Change was underway. As I painted, I nurtured my inner child, healed old wounds, and learned how to speak to myself differently. I changed how I approached the creative process and finally managed to quiet my inner critic.

Now I paint with joy and infinite gratitude. I allow myself to feel everything. My paintings are the transmutation of my inner world: intersections, horizons, cities, nostalgia, sunsets and sunrises.