My first poem wasn’t exactly a hit at school.
“Tell your mother you were supposed to write it yourself!”

But at eleven, I had better luck starring in a play by Florencio Sánchez.

My first song was a love song. I was fourteen.

Around that time, I wrote stories and plays, and drew comics.
Mostly, though, I became an obsessive composer.

It was never just one thing.
It was always everything, all at once.
Until cinema began to splice it all together.

One day, a classmate told me he had a Handycam, and my brain short-circuited.
“We’re making a short film tomorrow!”
“I can’t,” he said. “I have to go to the embassy early.”
“I’ll come with you. We’ll shoot along the way.”
So I got up at dawn, showed up, pressed REC, and improvised.
We even shot inside the embassy.
The short was called El Cabureté. It’s still out there somewhere.

First time I’d ever held a video camera.
First time I’d ever made a short film.

Some time later, I won a Video Relámpago competition at Cinemateca in Uruguay.
And then came my first mid-length film, shot on a borrowed Super VHS camera.
A documentary with fiction woven in.

For years, I directed music videos, commercials, videos for institutions,
and a few high-budget projects for international organizations.
I also became an expert television editor.

Video work became my livelihood. Films became my dream.

But in 2020, I said, “Enough.”
It was time to come back.

Since then, I’ve written and directed four short films, and now I’m immersed in my first feature films.

I want to make cinema.
One that’s felt.
One that’s mine.