Art Is My Religion

Art has always been more than expression to me — it is my path. Through creation, I connect to the deepest parts of myself — the ones that live beneath words and form. When I create, I cross the threshold between the visible and the invisible. It is there, in that quiet inner space, that I find my spiritual relief, my release, my communion.

I used to think that art was something I did, but now I understand that art is the way I pray. It is how I listen to life. Every painting, every project, every conversation becomes a form of meditation — a ritual of presence.

Through the I AM Conversations podcast, I have been learning more about myself and my process as a creator. Each story shared feels like a mirror — reflecting something deeper within me, reminding me that creativity is not about producing, but about becoming.

And then, life gave me an unexpected lesson — a simple, accidental bump on my head that opened a new door inside me. What began as a physical jolt became a spiritual awakening, showing me that transformation often comes through surprise, discomfort, or even pain.

We all want to learn the secret of manifestation — how to bring our wishes to life. But I believe that before we can manifest what we want, we must first understand who we are. We have to set aside our attachment to the material and listen instead to the quiet truth within us.

Material things are wonderful; they decorate our experience, but they do not promise happiness. I don’t wish to manifest showiness — I wish to manifest bliss.

Bliss, to me, is the state of being fully alive in creation. It’s the feeling that comes when the brush moves freely, when words flow without control, when you surrender and trust what’s trying to be born through you.

When I work with children, I tell the teachers that their imagination is sacred. Any interruption of a child’s creative process can ruin a little masterpiece. A child’s imagination is pure — it doesn’t judge or question; it simply creates. I believe that if someone cannot imagine something, it doesn’t mean another cannot bring it to life. Imagination is how the invisible becomes visible.

I often say that I paint what I see when my eyes are closed.

During our I AM Conversations interview with Sebastián Musso, he shared how he teaches astronomy to the blind — how each color of the universe carries a sound, a vibration, a note that can be heard. That conversation completely absorbed me. As he spoke, I could see what he described — a symphony of stars, galaxies, and colors transformed into music.

Since then, I’ve understood my own process in a deeper way. When I paint, my favorite part is closing my eyes and feeling. It’s in that darkness that images appear — not from sight, but from sensation, memory, and intuition. Painting, for me, is not about what I see outside, but about what I perceive within.

After this realization, I have become kinder to myself and to my paintings. I used to compare myself to others, always feeling different — as if I didn’t belong in the same rhythm or language. But now I understand that my paintings are my diaries, each one a record of thoughts, emotions, and quiet revelations.

I am different because I am having an internal dialogue that only speaks to me. My art is not meant to impress or perform — it is meant to express and transform. I never wanted to be the kind of artist who paints to fill a gallery wall or to please a collector. My intention was never to create something sellable; it has always been to create something alive.

Now, my paintings carry a strong personal meaning. They hold moments, prayers, and truths that only I fully recognize. Sometimes I feel sadness about the paintings I’ve sold — as if I’ve given away a piece of my own story. In art school, we were taught to create and destroy, to learn detachment. But now, I feel the opposite. I would rather destroy a piece than sell or give it away without understanding. Some creations are not meant to be owned — only experienced.

Through my initiatives, I have learned that the real beauty of art is in teaching the process. Guiding a child — or a grown-up — to bring out their personal voice, rather than becoming a copy or a diluted version of another artist, is where the true power of art lives. It’s not about imitation; it’s about revelation.

Art is my religion, and imagination is sacred. Art leads me inward so that I can reach outward. It reminds me that the divine is not somewhere far away, but right here — in color, in sound, in movement, in imagination.

Art is my religion. It is how I pray, how I listen, and how I remember that bliss is not something to achieve — it is something to allow.