Tu YO al Cubo was the beginning of everything. It was the moment I stopped painting surfaces and began revealing the wound. Each cube embodies a level of consciousness—nine thresholds I crossed, descending toward the intimate edge where silence becomes unbearable.

When I cut into the fabric, I wasn't cutting material but skin. I exposed what the body had stored: memory, trauma, repetition. After the cut, there was no return; the surface no longer protected—it revealed. The opened skin held the truth I had kept silent.

The fabric ceased to be a support. It became a mirror of the subconscious, a place where color and interruption speak from what trembles. Each cube opened a layer of the self: multiple, fractured, luminous in its fragility.

In Tu YO al Cubo, I stopped hiding. I allowed rupture to become presence. That was the true beginning.