About

I studied Multimedia Arts at the Faculty of Fine Arts of the University of Lisbon, where I specialised in Photography. During those years, analogue photography became my greatest passion. I spent countless hours in the darkroom testing, experimenting, and learning through trial and error. I worked with every film stock I could get my hands on, explored different development processes, and experimented with alternative techniques, fascinated by the way even the smallest decision could completely transform the final image.

After completing my studies, I stepped away from photography entirely. What I thought would be a short pause gradually became more than ten years completely disconnected from the medium.

When I eventually picked up a camera again, I rediscovered much more than photography. I rediscovered an essential part of myself.

This time, however, I returned through colour. Photography became an escape, a form of therapy, and a way of slowing down and paying closer attention to the world around me. It gave me a reason to observe rather than simply pass by.

I am drawn to everyday moments, urban landscapes, natural light, colour, and the quiet details that are so easily overlooked. I rarely look for extraordinary events. Instead, I am interested in finding something meaningful in the ordinary — a particular light, a passing figure, a combination of colours, or a moment that exists for only a fraction of a second.

Each photograph becomes a fragment of time, part of an ongoing visual diary built around simplicity, emotion, memory, and imperfection.

Almost unintentionally, sharing this work online brought together a growing community of people who connected with the way I see and photograph the world. What began simply as a personal space where I could share images slowly became something much larger than I had ever expected.

Yet, as much as my return to photography happened in the digital world, I have always felt the need to return to what first made me fall in love with the medium: the physical image.

I want photographs to exist beyond a screen. I want to print them, hold them, live with them, and allow them to become objects in their own right.

Those early years spent in the darkroom left me with a permanent connection to the physical side of photography. For me, an image never feels entirely complete until it exists on paper. The texture, weight, surface, scale, and even the way a particular paper interprets colour all become part of the photograph itself. Printing is not simply the final step of the process; it is part of the work.

Now, I am taking the next step in that journey by opening my own photography print shop and creating a monthly photography mail club — two ways of allowing my photographs to leave the digital world and reach people as carefully produced physical objects.

After more than a decade away from photography, I now feel more connected to it than ever. Not simply as a way of making images, but as a way of noticing, remembering, and transforming fleeting moments into something tangible — something that can remain long after the moment itself has disappeared.