Inspired by a dear friend, this illustration captures a quiet moment of introspection. Perched on a branch, the girl embraces stillness without needing answers.  Her flowing hair and grounded boots reflect freedom and presence. Autumn tones speak of transition—not as an ending, but as part of becoming.

Around her, creatures observe silently. The bird in her hand whispers inward, like a gentle guide.

Watercolour on 300 gr paper, 2025.

A love letter to bicycles and the freedom of movement.
In this illustration, a fox rides uphill with calm delight, joined by fish swimming upstream. Together, they defy logic—but not the heart.

Joyful and playful, the scene celebrates the ride more than the destination. “Biclaamo” blends the Mexican slang bicla (bike) with te amo (I love you)—a whimsical way to say: I love bikes.

Digital work, 2024.

An impossible city inhabited by creatures floating between the ordinary and the dreamlike: a pelican behind the wheel, a fish adrift, a sunbathing chameleon, and a raccoon watching from its window.
Thread works as quiet architecture — holding things together without tying them down.
It all feels real, until you notice the stage curtain. Maybe this is just a scene.

Mixed media illustration: watercolor, colored pencil, and embroidery on Arches paper.
2025

Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear a chef’s hat, wield a kitchen knife, and ride giant sea beasts.

This illustration celebrates wild imagination, humor, and the kind of absurd bravery that shows up when a chef confronts the impossible—with flavor, flair, and just a bit of chaos.

Watercolour on 300 gr paper, 2025.

Illustration created for the website banner of SCBWI Canada East. This piece celebrates the beauty of spring through a storytelling approach, featuring a diligent little bee gathering pollen amidst a vibrant natural setting

Digital work, 2025

This illustration is the final piece of a sketch inspired by a brief yet impactful encounter during a time of personal reflection. The young woman who lay in the bed next to my mom’s in the hospital—bed 514—left a lasting impression on me. Though she endured constant pain, nothing seemed to ease it, and sadly, she didn’t make it.

It’s strange how a fleeting presence, someone you barely get to know, can deeply resonate with you, reminding us of the fragility of life.

This piece reflects a delicate moment—a quiet beauty that sometimes emerges when something gives way.

Watercolour on cotton paper, 2025

Illustrations from Cat & Fish, a short tiny book.

Personal work, 2023.

This piece explores the quiet strangeness of being alone with your thoughts. The woman sits in the bathtub, but the water isn’t water—it’s thick, dark, almost sentient. She wears a snorkel to breathe, adapting to something she can’t escape. Two creatures stare from the paintings, blurring the line between observer and observed.

A surreal reflection on what it means to stay still when everything inside is spilling over.

Digital work, 2024.

This illustration attempts to depict João Paulo through the things he is passionate about and that accompany him daily. The magic in all this is that with him, I am relearning to admire small things that often went unnoticed, like the beauty of a piaba, and even to value things as complex as the delight of a wave.

Digital Art, 2023.

A young boy floats underwater, smiling, held gently by his favourite creature: a whale shark. Around him, the ocean glows with life—jellyfish, turtles, and shoals of fish move through this calm, dreamlike scene.

A celebration of childhood, the sea, and the joy of being exactly where you belong.

Commission Art, 2023.

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In this playful illustration, a cat and a mouse share an unexpected moment of connection. Instead of fear or chase, there is curiosity—an unspoken question hanging between their eyes. The oversized chair becomes a stage for this quiet encounter, turning tension into gentle wonder.

The swirling patterns echo the energy beneath their calm, hinting at a hidden dance yet to unfold.

A piece that explores the delicate balance between instinct and friendship, inviting us to imagine what might happen next.

Digital work, 2023.

In this whimsical scene, two curious cats peek from a city window, their eyes bright with mischief and wonder. The warm glow of their fur contrasts with the quiet teal tones of the building, suggesting stories unfolding behind glass.

A wilting flower hints at forgotten care or perhaps a secret shared only between them. Their expressions, both shy and playful, invite us to imagine a nighttime world full of small adventures and quiet companionship.

A playful exploration of urban life through the eyes of its most secretive residents.

Digital work, 2023.

Inspired by the classic children’s song “One elephant went out to play...”,  this illustration turns absurdity into tenderness and quiet collaboration. The elephant doesn’t break the web—he holds it gently. The spider, with her tiny knitting needles, isn’t just spinning a thread—she’s spinning a shared story.

A soft celebration of imagination, kindness, and the unlikely friendships that make the impossible feel light.

Digital work, 2023.

Chameleon is a creature known for blending in. In this image, it does the opposite: it shows up in full.

Wearing a suit and a piercing gaze, this figure celebrates transformation not as camouflage, but as presence. A tribute to color, strangeness, and the boldest way of being oneself.

Digital art, 2024

I’ve always been fascinated by whales—their sound, their size, their presence.  This one is a humpback, drawn in my favorite blue. I built it using patterns, as if its body held the memory of the ocean. Below its mouth, thestrange bumps that have always unsettled me are still there. Because why leave them out?.

Digital art, 2024

In Toronto, cardinals are easy to spot. Their bright red feathers stand out no matter the season. This piece was inspired by the cardinals I often see here—and by a very personal memory. My grandmother, who passed away in 2019, had a pet cardinal. She loved it deeply. She talked to it, fed it, and treated it like part of the family. Even now, that memory stays with me. Creating this illustration was a way to bring together the cardinals I see today and the one that lived in her home, as part of her everyday life.

Digital art, 2023.

The axolotl—eternal, mythical, and luminous.

This extraordinary amphibian is native to Mexico, and its ability to regenerate limbs has fascinated scientists and artists alike. To me, it feels like a creature from another world—suspended between past and future, childhood and evolution.

In a world that rushes to grow and transform, the axolotl reminds us of the quiet strength in staying whole.

Digital art, 2024.

I cried when I watched My Octopus Teacher. Octopuses are strange, brilliant, emotional creatures. 

I find them fascinating. But I also find them disgusting. Their suckers make my skin crawl—so much that I can’t eat them unless they’re shaved. I paint them anyway. 

Their shapes, their movement, their otherworldly presence—something in me keeps going back to them. Maybe it’s not about beauty. Maybe it’s about awe and discomfort at the same time.

Acrylic on 300 gr cotton paper.

Bathed in warm dusk tones, these flamingos stand like quiet guardians in a mirrored world of reeds and reflections. Their poised elegance and delicate textures evoke a sense of calm, mystery, and gentle observation.

This piece celebrates the subtle poetry found in nature’s still moments — where even the simplest posture feels like a dance.

Digital work, 2023.

Created for Ripple Foundation, this illustration accompanies an article exploring self-acceptance and the journey of letting go of societal expectations.

The flowing blue hair symbolizes freedom and personal growth, while the surrounding words represent the constant pressures—family, culture, beauty standards—that shape and sometimes confine us.

This piece invites viewers to reflect on the power of living authentically and choosing self-love over external validation.

Digital work, commissioned by Ripple Foundation, 2023.

This illustration is a tribute to the act of looking — and the tension between presence and documentation.

Inspired by my experiences with mountaineering and photography, this piece reflects on how cameras can pull us away from the moment: we trade the present for future memories, turning now into nostalgia. Yet, I also found beauty in photography as a way to connect with the landscape when drawing wasn’t possible.

Here, the vintage camera becomes a living being, an entity with eyes that don’t just capture but also witness and hold us accountable to the moment. A quiet reminder to look, to see, and to remain present.

Digital illustration, iPad drawing, 2025.