Even though I am an affectionate person, I’m not a huggy person. I could argue that I save hugs for special occasions or that I only hug my friends when I’m incredibly happy, or emotional, or drunk. There had been times in 2020/21 when I was feeling like one or more of those things, but for obvious reasons I could not hug everyone I wanted. And I missed it so damn much. More than I ever thought I would. I've been through some bitter hugless moments: my best friends who were dramatic about becoming 30, the one who had a baby, the baby itself, the ones who lost dear ones, the ones who were anxious, scared and lonely, the one who got an Emmy nomination (I’m not bragging, you’re bragging).

During the creative process of Closeness I decided I would only paint images that could make the back of my eyes feel warm. Having established that this was the ultimate goal of this collection, I can say I’ve been successful. There’s something about these embracing translucent monochrome figures that makes my tear ducts tense up.

I started painting monochrome portraits in 2019, around November. It’s not a long time if you think about it, but a lot has happened since. The first ones I ever painted were my friends Jim and Holly, and I gifted them the artwork as thanks for inviting me and Rafa to their family’s Thanksgiving. Now this portrait sits in their living room, besides Holly’s piano. Soon after that, I started getting commissions for monochrome portraits, and, since, I’ve painted more than 150 portraits. I don’t really know when I’ll stop painting them, at some point I guess I’ll move on to something else, but I’ll always remember these translucent figures because they proved to me that becoming a full-time painter was not crazy.

I really hope Closeness speaks to you, in 2020 and on. May it be a reminder to never take for granted the privilege of a hug.