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It all began with a dream of being closer to nature. 

I was four years old when I had my first encounter with books and art. I pretty much started reading then. I immediately felt connected to something bigger than myself, and I craved that connection for the rest of my life, the sound of the pencil on the paper and brushes sliding across the canvas. 

I am naturally a socially awkward introvert/extrovert person. I somehow get much attention around my persona, but I'd rather be invisible, to see and not to be seen. I crave solitude, calmness and nature.

I was born in a big house in a big country, yet I prefer to live in small places surrounded by great people. 

Being an inquisitive person, others, myself and nature are my favourite subject to paint or write about. Or both.

My career experiences and skills have grown from my childhood hobbies: painting, writing, telling stories, building relationships.

I loved being creative and active in every aspect. I was lucky to convert all those passions/hobbies into reality through various roles in my career, which is very eclectic, like me. 


My work 


Following my affection for words, I earned my doctorate in Linguistics in 1998. Previously, I pursued a master's degree in Comparative Literature (Brazilian, Angolan, Portuguese), in Journalism, and Marketing & Advertising. 

Alongside this, I also moved across continents and settled in Northern Ireland. For the last 21 years, I continued pursuing my linguistic tendencies by teaching Linguistics and Modern Languages and working as a translator/interpreter.

However, throughout the decades, I intermittently persevered with my writing and my love for fine arts by experimenting with drawing, painting, printing, sculpture, mosaic and collage, until recently when I finally dedicated the bulk of my time and soul to making and exhibiting my works.


If you want to see more of what I do and myself, please look at my Instagram page solsunshine07, where I share some of my new work and other exciting things. 



if I could show myself,
I would want to spread my whole life out before you
and tell you about
the blankets that comforted me
when my heart was at its coldest,
the wedding dress
I wore at my saddest party,
the dozens of drawings on the floor
still waiting for the framers,
the wounds that I still pick now and then
until they start bleeding
at the first signs of healing,
that wouldn’t be enough;
you will need me to show you more,
much more
from the archives of my life,
and photographs to prove it all;
the unsent letters,
when I caught my mistake fast enough not to post them,
the writings on the walls;
the smells and tastes I carry with me;
my weakness,
the way I can call up old emotions,
feel old pains,
and recall hurtful memories,
but also a drawback in my life.

I could, I suppose, write a novel about it all instead;
a novel rather than an autobiography
because autobiography
should be the truth
and the truth is such a transient thing,
so, if I decide to show you some parts of it,
written, here,
it won’t necessarily be the whole story,
but what I choose to give you for now;
an honest account of my truth,
which goes as far as hope goes;
only a fragment of the whole picture
because when it comes to telling a story
words have a uniqueness
almost impossible at times
in my art and in reality,
it’s my words that make my art unique,
the words I write;
the unspoken ones,
I paint.


secret poetry


I believe art,

in whatever form it is,

to be a forewarning

about the fragility of the flesh

not the soul.

for it has its own life and form

-whatever pleasures we know

are doomed-

thus, my paintings,

my writings

manage to evoke

at once

the process of decay,


and the ongoing struggle for life;

they hold within them

secret poetry,

stained with blood and rust.


words whispered

“a tumultuous day in december when I landed in her home, escaping briefly my own homelessness. walls, counters, corners mantled with stories. an affair with shapes and hues spanning three decades. contradictory moods navigated in different aesthetics and ranging from drawing, painting, collage, to printing and mosaic. islamic calligraphy assembled in minuscule tiles, prostitutes mellowing on the beach in watercolour, ethereal soulandscapes in oil, a crucified voluptuous female rendered in golden cubes. a textured tale of phases–evolution, regression, circularity amid the spaces and times inhabited. some of the earlier works vibrant chromatically and maximalist in composition. more recent paintings slide into the gloomy, abstract, minimalist. their apparent simplicity contrasts yet the technical precision and lyrical flow surfacing when zooming in on details like tree trunks or horizons. layers, textures, shades–extensions of the chaos within. desert and ocean: polarity yet resemblance. both vast mazes, as the mazes within her mind and fingertips.”

“what is it, major Lawrence, that attracts you to the desert?” “it’s clean”


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