Welcome! Thank you for stopping by!


A bit of background for those of you interested...


Perhaps it all started because I had lots of time on my hands. Though I loved running and riding my bike, I spent most of my time indoors. I lived in a city in a tenth floor apartment and that came with some obvious limitations.

I was fidgety, curious and anxious. I saw opportunity for play in everyday objects. Making my own toys with discarded cardboard boxes, scissors, markers and glue was my idea of fun. I never got tired of it. You'd find me making television sets, puppet theaters, pinball machines, dollhouses, or haunted mansions. I loved paint, India ink and the smell of freshly sharpened pencils. I still do.

​Fast forward a good four decades. It's been a bumpy ride. I find myself a bit worse for wear and in the company of persistent chronic pain. I occasionally have a good run and, for a little while, I tinker with my old friends: scissors, paper and glue. I have not lost any of my inquisitiveness, and I still enjoy making things whenever I can.

​Unfortunately, chronic pain doesn't like to travel solo. Like its cousin, misery, it also loves company. Anxiety and depression are its most faithful companions and I suffer bouts of both. Thankfully, making art comforts me and dispels some of their effects on my mood. I'd be lost without it.


I am well aware of the stigma surrounding mental illness. I realize it is still pervasive and hard to navigate. I know it is not considered a good subject for polite conversation, but I've been through with "polite conversation" for years now. It makes me sad to think that the habitual option for people like me is to suffer in silence. It's just not right.

Instead, I've learned that the best antidote available is clarity, so I try to be pretty transparent both in my life and my work. You will see glimpses of me in every image I make. Yes, it feels vulnerable and scary sometimes, but it is the only way to be.

​I speak about these issues in all my images. I do it from personal experience and perspective. Simultaneously, I am pushing back on my own anxiety, my fears and my feelings of inadequacy. Every collage is a stepping stone towards healing. Collaging is an anchoring practice that works for my silly brain.


I also hope that people with similar issues will find a little bit of themselves in my images.  I know that a kind word at the right time can mean the world to someone who is suffering. If an image is worth a thousand words, maybe my collage work can offer connection, confidence and self-acceptance to somebody. It's a tall order, but I'm up for the challenge. Healing is a difficult journey. Why not travel together?

​Little else is relevant about me.


I was a nomad who, unintentionally, became an immigrant.


I love gardening for wildlife. 


My brain is like a hummingbird: fast and hungry.


I am prone to melancholy.


I absolutely love animals above all else.


I enjoy movies from the 1930s and 1940s.


I hate cheese, and I loathe beer. Living in Vermont is challenging as a result. The tick Armageddon doesn't help either, but I am managing to put down some roots here. 

​As far as my work, it continues to flow from my formative years in Spain. MAD is, in fact, short for Madrid, and I confess I still miss my city very much.


I have vivid recollections of my beautiful birthplace, and I refashion them between the layers of paper and glue. I try to blend the old with the new, but home is, and always will be, Madrid. That city defines me and my artwork more than anything else.

​​My collages are like the confluence of two rivers: memory and imagination. They merge into each other to create something new. I love this process and I try to foster it daily. 


Thank you for your support. Stay a while. I hope you feel intrigued and perhaps even comforted by my images.


Hasta luego!