Tu YO al Cubo was the beginning of everything. It marked the moment when I stopped painting surfaces and began revealing the wound. Each cube in this installation represents a level of consciousness—nine thresholds I crossed, descending from the subconscious to the intimate edge of awareness, where silence becomes unbearable.

In creating these forms, I cut into fabric, not as material, but as skin. I unveiled what had been imprinted on the body—the codes of memory, trauma, the echoes of shame and repetition. Once the cut was made, there was no turning back. The surface no longer served to protect, but to reveal. The skin, exposed and violated, carried the raw truth of what I had silenced.

Fabric ceased to be a passive sign-holder. It became a mirror of the mind's multifocal projections, a vehicle for the subconscious to speak in color, texture, and interruption. Each cube, each wound, opened a space where the self was no longer singular, but layered, scattered, luminous in its fragility.

I no longer feared what hung by a thread. I saw memory for what it was—a tangle of torn flesh, suspended in the void, trembling yet intact in its vulnerability. Tu YO al Cubo became the first place where I stopped hiding. Where the gag fell. Where I allowed myself to be seen—not polished, but ruptured. And through that rupture, I found the beginning of presence.