In 1996, at 18 years old, I wanted to live in tropical Mexico but I didn’t know where. After several prolonged journeys to the sunny land of the feathered serpent, in 1998 I found Holbox Island. When I discovered the not-yet-discovered village, I knew I would stay. The moment I set foot on the mangrove-dense shore, I could sense a kind of glorious knowing and anticipation. Young and naïve, one thing was certain: I would move to Holbox and become an artist. I would. I did. For ten years. It was an exciting and abundant decade of creativity and artistic growth, ranging from theatre, writing, dance, illustration, performance, ecology, naturalism, and of course, painting. Youthful freedom and energy, vivid colour, spontaneity and unrelenting motivation were my drivers during this period of revelation. I devoured my dream and savoured every aspect of my cherished island and its beloved village of colourful, warm-hearted, festive people.
I discovered myself and my work on this tiny sandbar, between the crystal waters of the Caribbean and murky Gulf of Mexico. These bodies of water hugely influenced my work. Being the keen and eager naturalist that I am, I was delighted to immerse myself in the rugged wilderness of this very remote fisherman’s island. Beyond the stretches of Yucatan’s deep, low-land jungle, it felt light years away from the hustle and bling of Cancun, that was three hours away on narrow and dusty jungle roads.