The heart of Hell is not fire, but ice. Cold as hatred, dehumanization and relational death. The body is enveloped by the cold waters of the Cocytus and at that moment all desire is extinguished and man can only contemplate his failure. Cryogenized in this immense river, which separates the world of the living from that of the dead, the human being becomes stone, soulless, insignificant, mute and inert. He lets himself be transported aimlessly by the great Luciferian sacrificial machine and the 'mperador of the painful kingdom, mocking, makes fun of the imperfect creation of the Father.
Since I was a child I always loved to create. I was always attracted to particular shapes, symmetries, light effects. I’ve always been looking for something that was visually beautiful; this propensity for beauty resulted in my passion for photography. In my first creative period I was mainly attracted to urban landscapes and architecture; I have made many works of that photoghraphic genre.