Aquí No Pasa Nada
I walk, observe, absorb, and translate. This work doesn’t begin in the studio; it begins in the streets of Miami: Little River, Allapattah, Overtown. I’m not inventing new realities; I’m amplifying the ones we pass by every day, the visual noise of the city, the discarded, the improvised, the overlooked.
Aquí No Pasa Nada is a series rooted in stillness; in the everyday moments that rarely make it into the frame. A slouched chair on the sidewalk. A sagging wire fence. A soggy cardboard box splitting open after the rain. These are not landmarks or symbols. They’re simply there. And that’s exactly why I paint them.
These images don’t romanticize poverty or decay. Instead, they call for a kind of radical attention; to see the poetry in the peripheral. Each work is built from real places and found moments: an ice cream truck plastered with chaotic signage and cartoon stickers; a “No Trespassing” zone turned into a playground for a sun-faded teddy bear on a rusted truck; an alligator crossing a handicapped parking space, part myth, part reality, entirely Miami.
Rendered in mixed media; acrylic, gold leaf, spray paint, fabrics, charcoal; these paintings are tactile, dense, and full of interruptions. They mirror the city’s layered, chaotic texture. The human figure is mostly absent, but never far. Every image carries the trace of someone: the person who built the fence, hung the laundry, fed the birds, or left the chair behind. These scenes are haunted by labor, improvisation, and the quiet resilience of everyday life.
Miami appears here not as spectacle, but as a patchwork of gestures. The work resists grand narratives in favor of the intimate and the fragmentary. There’s no agenda; only an invitation to slow down, to pay attention, and to notice the strange beauty pulsing just beneath the surface. To find gold in the gutter.
These are scenes for no one in particular; which is exactly why they matter.