Drawing, in this context, should not be understood as the mere production of images nor as the pursuit of a finished form. It does not consist simply in creating a recognizable or correct figure, but in moving through a process. This space proposes, rather, an opening: a threshold toward presence, where what matters is not to represent something identifiable, but to place oneself within an unfolding experience.

The line, therefore, is not conceived as a sign—that is, as something that refers to a fixed meaning—nor as a closed form, but as a passage. Each stroke is part of a trajectory, a movement in which perception, motion, and thought are involved. In this passage, the gesture of the hand does not attempt to capture the visible, but to attend to that which has not yet been defined, that which insists on manifesting before acquiring a name or a precise form.

From this perspective, drawing does not amount to producing a figure, but to traversing an interval: a space-time in which perception, body, and thought are interwoven. Seeing ceases to be a passive act; the gaze selects, interprets, and guides the hand. Perception thus becomes a form of thought in action, while thought, far from remaining in abstraction, finds in the stroke a materiality: a way of making itself visible and tangible.

In this way, what we think—ideas, intuitions, or sensations—does not remain internal, but becomes embodied in the line. Drawing, then, should not be understood as a simple representation of the world, but as a space where perceiving, thinking, and acting are inseparably intertwined.

Thus, what emerges should not be valued as a final result nor as a completed work, but as a trace: an inscription of passage through a field of experience, a sensitive record of the movement of the one who draws.