You launched, on Monday, April 13th the photobook Here Only the Devil Can Live at the City Hall of Angra do Heroísmo. How did this work come into being, and how would you describe it?

It did not emerge from a fixed structure, but rather from an artistic process grounded in wandering, experimentation, and a deep listening between materials, territory, and the body. The initial impulse dates back eight years, when I began gathering photographic material, sensory impressions, historical archives, and oral memory. Once I had accumulated a substantial body of material, I took time to observe it, and only then did I realize I had a project in my hands—something that needed to be brought into existence. In the end, creative projects are invisible forces with a life of their own. They decide when the moment is right to exist.

I would describe the project as an individual process that seeks to transcend into the collective, where there are no boundaries between artistic disciplines, and whose aim is to guide the viewer through a sensory and symbolic journey—one that allows for reflection on the relationships we establish with what surrounds us, whether human or otherwise. It is a project that offers no answers, but is deeply invested in posing questions, and it undoubtedly inhabits a feminine and decentered gaze.

An exhibition bearing the same name is on view until April 19 at the Dacosta Room of the Museu de Angra do Heroísmo. Yesterday, you led a guided visit to the show. What kind of experience did you propose to those who attended?

I am interested in art as a catalyst for collectivity. I do not fully believe in art as a revolutionary project, but I do believe that many forces acting simultaneously at the micro level can overflow existing structures and the established order of things. I hope, therefore, that this encounter became an opportunity to look at both individual and collective reality from other perspectives—that it became one of those meaningful everyday acts, that the exhibition served as a space for posing collective questions, and that my own experience might have functioned as a reflection for others.

We carried out a few exercises and discussed the works in a relaxed atmosphere, and, as the project itself proposes, from the point of view of the body.

You develop transdisciplinary work that spans visual arts, experimental cinema, performance, writing, and education. What is your creative process like?

In my creative process, what I do is weave: between ideas, beings, disciplines, concepts, and times. I work very intuitively, treating the project as an entity that must also be listened to. It determines the timelines, the needs, and the collaborations that must be established for everything to unfold. I also try to work at an intermediate point between structure and pleasure. The situation of artists is already precarious and complex enough—we need not make it even more difficult.

You have presented your work in the United States, Greece, Italy, Bulgaria, Portugal, Spain, and Brazil, receiving recognition, awards, and honorable mentions. How do you assess your trajectory, and what led you to settle in the Azores?

To dedicate oneself to art—even recognizing that culture is fundamental to our daily lives—is a complex path that requires great resilience. My trajectory is still being built, as I try to contribute without exhausting myself. The cultural sector needs more sustained support over time, greater transparency, and a structural rethinking so that we, as artists, can project ourselves into the future and take an active place within the social fabric.

My assessment is positive, because I chose to stay and keep rowing. But not all my colleagues share that privilege, and at times the future feels uncertain. In the present moment, it is essential to claim an imagination that fosters a world in which working in and for culture is a dignified profession, with fair material conditions. Without that aspiration, we will begin to disappear.

In what ways do the Azores influence your artistic creation?

The Azores have given me—and continue to give me—so much. They inspire me constantly; here I feel vibrant, in a full flow of creativity. I experience Terceira Island as a harbor: a place from which I draw, but to which I also give back. I believe islands must remain porous, so that imagination can expand. They have had a profound impact on my creative processes.

Today, I dream of carrying that energy outward—and of having it return, transformed, to take root here once again.

In Diário Insular-José Lourenço, director