This piece is more than a synesthetic translation of a waltz. It is a return to the place where my relationship with music and art truly began. When I listen to this recording of Strauss, I am instantly transported back to being a little girl dancing ballet in my dad’s living room. He would spend the afternoon painting or reading while classical records played on his vintage stereo. I can still see the long wall covered in his paintings and the ones he collected, each framed in beautiful vintage frames. The entire room felt warm and alive.

The sound of the record player was always soft and grainy, and I loved it so much. I would dance until I got tired and then I would fall asleep on the floor next to the stereo. Then he would pick me up and carry me to bed. These memories feel like the foundation of who I am as an artist today. They feel like the early beginnings of my synesthesia, even though I did not have a name for it yet. I just knew that music had colors, shapes, emotions, and movement inside it.

This painting carries all of that. It holds the swirling motion of the waltz and the elegance of ballet. It holds the warmth of childhood afternoons spent with my dad. It holds the grainy texture of vinyl and the soft glow of memory. It carries everything that rises in me when I hear this piece of music.

This piece is my synesthetic translation of Mozart’s “Canzonetta Sull’ Aria.” Even though the duet is from 1786, it has this older, almost medieval quality in the way it feels to me. The sound shows up in my mind as flowing white and silver lines drifting over deep greens, blues, and golds. The colors and shapes move softly and elegantly, almost like two voices intertwining in the air.

That’s what I painted.

The swirling lines are the melodies.

The deeper tones are the underlying mood of the music.

The tiny sparks are the little harmonies that appear and fade.

The whole piece has a gentle, courtly movement that still reminds me of the classical music I grew up around, which definitely shaped how I see sound today.

I’m excited to share this work at Art Basel Red Dot Miami with @sabgallerycollection .

Holocene I is my take on the moody, ethereal quality of Bon Iver ‘s “Holocene.” Justin Vernon’s voice has this haunting, ghostly edge that really resonates with me. My olfactory-auditory synesthesia makes me pick up a woody scent from his vocals, so using a wooden canvas felt natural. The black marbled effect reflects how I visualize those layered sounds.

Every time I hear that sound, it takes me straight back to childhood summers in Brazil, warm nights on the island, surrounded by crickets, katydids, and all kinds of little critters. It’s such a comforting sound, like being wrapped in memory.

The pattern came out squiggly and organic, with black spots and holes that give it a tribal, earthy feel, almost like it belongs to the ground itself. The colors are black, gold, orange, and yellow, and the whole thing feels alive with movement. The painting is 12x17 inches, set in a 16x20 frame under glass.

I’ve been playing with this nature sounds idea for a while now, painting what different sounds of nature look like to me. So far, you guys have thrown out some fun requests: thunderstorms, forest, locusts, hummingbirds, cardinals, swifts, even NYC pigeons 😂. What else should I add to the list?

This katydid piece will be shown in London on October 18th for the In My Mind’s Eye workshop — part of @maikepreissing and @zoesthesia ‘s documentary exploring perception, identity, and sensory diversity (including synesthesia). I’m so excited for them and can’t wait to see where this journey takes them! If you want to support the documentary, check out @inmymindseye.film !

What does a pigeon sound like to me? 😂

For this piece, I translated the sound of a New York pigeon into visual form. It was actually a suggestion from one of you when I asked for ideas for my Sounds of Nature series, and I couldn’t resist.

I’ve painted raindrops, cardinals, katydids, and crickets, but this one hits differently. The sound pattern came out raw, rhythmic, and a little chaotic — pretty much sums up NYC. It even feels like a tiny tribute to home since I grew up there.

The ink gave it this organic, fluid effect that almost vibrates on paper.