“If I speak about love, it’s usually through the lens of misunderstanding or asymmetry.”
interview by Leo Babsky
All images and videos: Courtesy of Nicolás Said
When I read that you studied psychology at the University of Buenos Aires, it made total sense to me. What made you move away from that and into art?
It makes more sense the other way around. Drawing is my all-time lover, and Psychology was more of a teenage fling. Anabsolutely delicious detour, but more of an interest than something I saw as part of my identity.
That said, the years I spent studying at UBA gave me a kind of lens, a mental configuration, a philosophical framework that still shapes how I produce and look at art. More than the therapist’s couch, I was drawn to the theoretical side of psychoanalysis: metaphor, dreams, desire, family ties… And, of course, a little to it’s drama.
Pisauvas, 2025
As your work dips into the figurative and the imaginary, do your dreams have a sense of reality? Can you tell us about a recent dream?
Surprisingly, for someone who works with those subjects, my dreams are usually painfully mundane – stuff like receiving a text or waiting for a bus. Dull! When they are not like that, they fall into the “pure anxiety” category. So, no creativity whatsoever while sleeping.
But that actually says a lot of how I function. I’d consider myself a pretty balanced person – as long as I am working. It’s usually during lazy or uninspired times that those nightmarish creatures crawl up to the surface.
Your work also demands an exacting technical skill. Does it ever strain your hands? If so what do you do about it?
I’ve heard “Turn on the lights, or you’ll damage your eyesight” and “Do some exercise, or you’ll strain your hands” quite a few times. I do strain my hand, and quite a lot, actually. Do I do something about it? Absolutely not. I wish I had some responsible advice to give here, but I’m afraid I’m fully committed to this hermit-drawing-in-the-candlelight-inside-the-torture-chamber fantasy.
Recuerdo y Representacion, 2025
You are back in Argentina now after your residency at Studio Voltaire in London – how is it being back and how did you find London?
I’m happy to be back because Buenos Aires and the people here are absolutely fantastic, but we are going through a very difficult time that’s reshaping the country. It is a pivotal moment in history, although unchosen. The crisis is clearly global, but we’re experiencing something quite brutal here. This may be the most openly cruel government since the return of democracy in the 1980s. It’s a vile era, and living in the city gets harder every day.
When I was back, London felt like oxygen because of how vibrant and alive it is. It has this shapeshifting quality like you can reinvent your whole ecosystem each weekend. There’s something about the illusion of possibility. It was uplifting, and I remember my time there as a very bright era.
How does the queer scene in London compare to BA?
London’s queer scene is very much determined by that shapeshifter energy I mentioned earlier. Since it feels like a nexus, a meeting point for people from all around, I found it super eclectic and vibrant with flavors and sub-flavors of self-expression. As I said before, the possibility of reinventing your environment gives it a feeling of endlessness. It’s also super bombastic: lots of shows and themed nights.
Buenos Aires’ scene, on the other hand, is smaller and definitely more chaotic, but in the best way possible. Queerness here is deeply political, so unity and artistry are strong. It’s a place where you can build a creative space in any sketchy corner and where taking up public space is part of the culture. Places pop up, disappear, reappear in a different shape, metamorph… it’s very rare how volatile but still super-rooted Buenos Aires can be. Friendship also has a special meaning, vertebral I’d say. There aren’t many ways around it; there’s always the threat of our rights being taken away or queer spaces being shut down. Emotionally, it feels much denser, more rebellious, and more rooted in community. We have a huge ballroom scene, a fresh nightlife, and a broad queer art scene that I find extremely unique and peculiar in its interests and way of producing meaning.
There’s a political force in London’s queer scene, without a doubt, but it’s not something you necessarily perceive right away as a visitor, whereas in Buenos Aires, it hits you right in the face the moment you arrive.
Your work definitely reverberates through a lens of queerness. Would you like to expand on how you see your personal identity and that of other queer artists impacting your work ?
I am an old-fashioned gay man whose vault of references is the kitchen knife, the fallen-from-grace diva, the Baby Jane nightgown, the homoerotica, and some other lovely etcéteras. But also, since I work with subjects that feel traditional but can be transposed across different eras in history, what really matters to me is how my queerness both demands and allows the questioning of those. If I speak about family, I’m usually speaking about isolation, impossibility, and broken roles. If I speak about love, it’s usually through the lens of misunderstanding or asymmetry. Things not landing where they are supposed to land or not even landing at all. Just hanging awkwardly and unresolved, but gorgeously so. That resonates a lot with who I am.
Also something about sensibility, about the “how” of my work. There’s always this contradiction between the neat and the horrifying which feels as a direct translation from tradition and rupture. I think us queer artists are always working on something related to expanding an emotional register to make room for the contradictions.
If someone must have music while viewing your work, what song or type of music do you imagine?
Cocteau Twins—that’s the one. They are my all-time favorite band and most likely the music I listen to while working. Think gothic fairies with a loud 80s percussion sample singing a lyrical ode in a packed basement. That’s the atmosphere I’m usually going for.
That said, my last boyfriend used to say that my work lives in the same world as of Montreal and, honestly, I think he was right. Something about the way I construct narrative: very nonsensical, weirdly theatrical and overall unhinged. I’ll give him that.
If you had a hot date that you wanted to show around Buenos Aires, where would you take them?
I’m going to go for a city life date with a pinch of bucolic. We’d go bike strolling through the riverside, starting at the Fisherman’s Club and cruising up to the Natural Reservoir. Then we’d head downtown for empanadas de vigilia at La Americana, grab an ice cream in Cadore, and catch an old lady arthouse movie in Avenida Corrientes. Pigeons, river, and traffic.
Lastly, who is your secret (or not so secret) femme crush and masc crush?
Victoria and David Beckham. Together. Silk red bed sheets. Heart-shaped bed. Champagne on the night table. This Groove by Victoria is playing in the background. It’s not exactly a secret, and there is absolutely zero shame.
