Adelaida, where what I feel becomes form

I’m a South American artist living in Italy, and if I’m honest, my path into this work has not felt linear.

There was a time when life seemed to split into different directions at once. I had already been living far from my country, and when the pandemic came, that feeling of distance became heavier. I felt suspended between places, between versions of myself, between what I had imagined for my life and what life actually became.

In that in-between, art became more than something I loved.
It became the place I returned to when I needed grounding.

I had discovered sculpting back in 2017, almost without realizing how deeply it would stay with me. Before that, I studied fashion design, so I was already drawn to shape, color, composition, and the quiet language of visual beauty. But over time, I understood that what moved me most was not fashion itself, but the possibility of giving form to something emotional, intimate, and lasting.

That is where my work truly began.

Today, I create miniature sculptures and wearable pieces inspired by nature, emotion, memory, and personal experience. Animals, seasonal shifts, organic movement, small gestures in nature that carry meaning. I’m often drawn to stories hidden inside forms: a fish that creates a mandala in the sand to attract its mate, the trust and ritual behind the movement of eagles in the sky, the way a season can change the emotional atmosphere around us without asking permission.

I rarely create from emptiness.
I create from what lingers.

You will also find a strong Art Nouveau influence throughout my work. It has always been the artistic language I feel closest to. I’m drawn to its flowing lines, its reverence for nature, its ornament, its softness, and its strength. That influence appears naturally in my pieces, not as decoration, but as part of how I see beauty.

Some of my creations are deeply personal.
Some are symbolic.
Some begin with a feeling I can’t explain right away.

But all of them come from the same place: the desire to create something with presence, tenderness, and meaning.

I think that’s why I care so much about detail.
Not just because detail is beautiful, but because detail is often where emotion lives.

What I make is not only meant to be seen.
It is meant to be felt.

And maybe that is the most honest way to describe what I do:
I turn what stays with me into form.