This Is My Nervous System
Unresolved. Unfiltered. Unconscious.
A study in emotional residue.
No script. No palette.
William Chiriboga doesn’t exist here.
Gubi almost doesn’t either.
This is where I experience pure abstraction. Where my feelings turn physical. Where logic breaks. I use abstraction to look at perception itself. Where color behaves like memory. My most personal expression.
I don’t tame the mess. I let it live.
Instinct on Canvas
When emotion builds, it doesn’t stay quiet.
It spills. It smears. It clenches color.
No form. No script. Raw movement.
Tension becomes texture. Pressure becomes response.
This expression isn’t about soothing the chaos.
It’s about honoring it. Giving it form.
Letting it live exactly as it arrives. Loud. Layered. Unfiltered.
These pieces aren’t polished. They aren’t safe.
They tremble. They rupture. They cling to the edge of control.
It comes from the depths of my body.
My subconscious translating itself in real time.
Gestures in revolt.
