Undisciplined Works: When Art Doesn’t Ask for Permission

There are works that are not born to fit in. They don’t follow instructions, respect genres, or submit to the desire of being understood. They resist — or better yet, simply don’t know how to obey. Right there, in that friction, lies my work with what I call Undisciplined Works

It’s not a category. It’s not a series. It’s a territory. One formed when painting dialogues with photography, when words slip into objects, when a technique betrays its function and becomes something else. Here, the analog melts with the digital, the figurative with the abstract, the intimate with the political. Sometimes violently, sometimes with a disconcerting ease.

These works don’t seek to be “new.” They don’t want to be understood or translated into catalog language. They simply are. They impose themselves by necessity, by urgency, by pulse. And often, even for me, they are uncomfortable.

I work with them as one would converse with something that refuses to be tamed. I don’t always know where they’re headed, and I don’t try to force them. Being undisciplined is not just an aesthetic attitude: it’s a way of being in the world, a refusal to be reduced.

In this section of the blog, I will share fragments of that process: sketches, images, texts, intuitions. Not to explain, but to leave a trace. Because if these works don’t seek to fit, at least they can leave a mark.