I write when painting isn’t enough. Books are my parallel studio: a place for scenes, debates, and fragments of life that demand another form. 

Sometimes I bring a collective conversation back to the present—ramona. Debates in Art at the Turn of the Millennium—like keeping a shared fire alive. At other times I open an archive and rewrite it for today—Gino Germani’s Los sueños with Grete Stern’s photomontages—because some materials ask for a new reading to stay alive.

Sometimes the book comes from the body: The Size of My World measures desire and the gaze from within, in the voice that remains after experience. In Journals of Hate, with Roberto Jacoby, I take the brutal language of anonymous comments and turn it into a chorus: from insult to song, from wound to scene. And when no argument is possible, breathing becomes poem: Débil.

These aren’t separate genres but the same practice moving across forms: live → research → write → activate. Each book is a device to think with others: it can ignite a debate, open an archive, stage a performance, or become a song. This section gathers those paths—texts that don’t illustrate the work; they operate on it.