PORTFOLIO
Music and Composition: Albums like The Shepherd’s Groove showcase the ability to transform sacred texts, such as the Psalms, into modern soundscapes, fusing ancestral rhythms, organic percussion, drones, and modal melodies with electronic elements. My music seeks to create spaces of guidance, meditation, and community, going beyond mere entertainment.
Spiritual and Textual Exploration: My work incorporates the Torah, Halakha, and biblical language studies, reinterpreting scriptures with aesthetic and philosophical sensitivity. This results in projects where music and words intertwine, offering new ways to connect with the sacred.
Visual Art and Design: The visual identity of the projects, including album covers and graphic designs, combines ancestral symbols, ritual patterns, and elements of nature with a contemporary aesthetic. Colors, textures, and forms are used to evoke spirituality, protection, and movement.
Narrative and Literature: Through the book Queer Tabernacle and other writings, I explore personal and collective histories, integrating your activism, spirituality, and life experience. My portfolio demonstrates a thematic coherence between word, sound, and image, reflecting your holistic vision as an artist.
Interdisciplinary and Performance Projects: Many of my works are designed for installations, performances, or festivals, where the audience becomes an active participant, experiencing music and art as a shared experience.


El título condensa el corazón del proyecto. El turquesa es un color liminal: no es del todo azul ni del todo verde. Habita el umbral entre el cielo y la tierra, entre lo espiritual y lo orgánico. En muchas culturas antiguas ha simbolizado protección, sanación y verdad interior. Es el color del agua clara donde se ve el fondo, pero también de las profundidades donde algo permanece oculto. Los secretos, en este contexto, no hablan de vergüenza ni de ocultamiento por miedo, sino de conocimiento sagrado. Aquello que no se expone porque requiere preparación, silencio y madurez para ser comprendido. El secreto es iniciático.
La canción toma como ejemplo vivo a los pueblos mayas: una civilización profundamente reprimida por la colonización, pero a la que nunca se le pudo negar la altura de su conocimiento, su virtud y su sabiduría. Sus secretos —astronómicos, espirituales, temporales— no fueron borrados; fueron custodiados. “Turquesa y secretos” honra esa lógica: hay verdades que sobreviven no porque se griten, sino porque se protegen.
Desde lo personal, la canción recorre un tránsito emocional marcado por la segregación social de ser un hombre gay en un mundo que muchas veces no ofrece refugio. La letra se mueve entre la contemplación reacia y la urgencia del tiempo. Hay una conciencia de finitud que no es trágica, sino existencial: sentir que la vida ocurre, pero que durante mucho tiempo no parecía pertenecerle. Tenerlo “todo” y aun así sentir que “no es mío”. Esa tensión dialoga con la memoria de la infancia: el niño que jugaba Super Mario Bros y al que se le acaban los hongos —las vidas— como metáfora del cansancio, del límite, de la repetición.
El lenguaje de la canción es deliberadamente híbrido. Está escrita desde la mente y el cuerpo de un hombre panameño. Aparece el habla coloquial de Panamá, incluso el insulto “cuequito”, una palabra que marcó la infancia del compositor, no para reproducir la violencia, sino para resignificarla. Ese mismo cuerpo es el que creció bañándose en las aguas turquesas del Caribe panameño. Por eso el ritmo elegido es el reguetón: no como fórmula comercial, sino como acto de origen. Panamá no solo es territorio, es génesis cultural.
Cuando la letra afirma que su idioma es la construcción de muchas lenguas juntas que no encuentran reivindicación, el compositor se posiciona como sujeto fronterizo: cultural, lingüística y simbólicamente mestizo. No habla desde una identidad pura, sino desde lo no homologado. Esa es también una experiencia queer profunda: existir sin una traducción cómoda para el sistema.
El eje ético de la canción es claro y firme. No hay victimismo. Hay límite. “Aquí paro firme con el corazón” es una declaración de dignidad: no tolerar la violencia, el abuso ni la burla, incluso cuando están normalizadas por el lenguaje o la costumbre. Es una postura incómoda, pero necesaria.
En contraste, la canción se abre a imágenes íntimas y casi sagradas: pies descalzos, la playa, el turquesa, los secretos mayas. Ahí aparece el refugio. Los secretos no son vergüenza; son herencia. No se exhiben, se cuidan. Es también una declaración de amor a Panamá, al Caribe, a haber nacido en un lugar bendito. Aunque exista la ausencia del territorio natal y aunque el compositor hoy viva en el llamado “primer mundo”, nada de ese pensamiento fabricado le pertenece. La raíz permanece.
La portada del single refuerza todo este tránsito. Una figura humana sumergida, con los brazos abiertos, sugiere entrega y vulnerabilidad, pero también un bautismo invertido: no hacia una norma externa, sino hacia una verdad interior. El rayo multicolor que atraviesa el cuerpo conecta directamente con un corazón expuesto, anatómico, sin idealización. La revelación no ocurre en el discurso ni en la mente, sino en el centro afectivo. La espiritualidad aquí es corporal, emocional y política al mismo tiempo.
En síntesis, TURQUESA Y SECRETOS no es una confesión para ser juzgada. Es un manifiesto íntimo. Habla del costo de vivir con honestidad, pero también de su belleza. Es la afirmación de un lugar propio, alcanzado después de la duda, defendiendo el corazón sin endurecerlo, y honrando una herencia que, como el turquesa y los secretos ancestrales, sigue viva porque nunca dejó de ser verdadera.


The book begins with a central premise: the sacred does not belong to institutions, but to the living relationship between humankind and the Eternal. From this perspective, Queer Tabernacle reinterprets the great biblical symbols—the tabernacle, the ark, the covenant, the desert, the promise—as mobile spiritual structures, not as closed spaces. The tabernacle ceases to be an exclusive place and becomes a body that walks, feels, doubts, and loves.
The work engages in dialogue with the Torah, the prophets, Jewish tradition, biblical exegesis, and mysticism, but it does so from an embodied voice. It doesn't speak “about” queer bodies: it speaks from a body that has believed, been wounded, studied, and endured. In that sense, the book is both a work of thought and a responsible spiritual testimony. It doesn't seek to absolve without conscience or condemn without mercy.
Queer Tabernacle addresses religious exclusion not as a historical accident, but as a rupture of the ethical pact. It analyzes how power, institutional rigidity, and fear distorted sacred language, and proposes a reparation based on study, memory, and compassion. Faith doesn't appear as an emotional refuge, but as a profound commitment to truth and to the other.
The book's tone is poetic, symbolic, and precise. The writing is not ornamental: each image fulfills a theological function. Language acts as spiritual architecture, creating a space where the reader is not indoctrinated, but invited to enter, pause, and assume their own inner responsibility.
Queer Tabernacle doesn't attempt to “include” anyone in existing systems. It proposes something more radical: to reconstruct the space. To create an ark where queerness and the sacred are not tolerated, but recognized as part of the same mystery. A place where faith does not demand denial of the body, and where identity does not demand renunciation of God.


At its core, the groove is cyclical, not linear. Time is perceived as a repetitive journey, not a destination, reflecting the shepherd’s task: to move forward, watch over, and return. The tempos are generally moderate (approximately 80–110 BPM), conveying a steady balance rather than urgency. The rhythmic feel is reminiscent of footsteps on uneven ground.
Rhythmically, an asymmetrical balance predominates. Simple time signatures (4/4 or 6/8) are used with micro-displacements: delayed syncopation, slightly shifted accents, or calls and responses between bass and treble percussion. This creates a "breathing" groove: stable yet vibrant. It manifests itself through:
A steady pulse (bass drum, snare drum, drone, or foot stomp)
A counter-rhythm that complements the overall sound (shaker, hand drum, handclaps)
Silence used as structure, not as absence
Melodically, modes are employed. Scales such as Dorian, Phrygian, Aeolian, or pentatonic are common. The melody doesn't seek harmonic resolution in the Western style, but rather circles around a tonal center, frequently sustained by a drone. Intervals such as perfect fourths, perfect fifths, and minor seconds evoke distance, warnings, and nostalgia.
The texture consists of clear but sparse layers, with defined roles:
One element provides the foundation (drone, bass, sustained pad)
One element leads (vocals, flute, reed instrument, or simple synthesizer line)
One element sets the tempo (percussion or repeated ostinato)
When vocals are present, the groove lends itself to a mantra-like chant or collective call. The phrases are short, repeatable, and communal, functioning more as a guide than a performance. Ornamentation is minimal but expressive (glides, microtones, breaths).
Emotionally, it conveys vigilance and care, not dominance. It generates a protective, patient, and alert feeling, with a contained tension: there is an awareness of danger, but not panic. It is music to stay awake and support others together.
In contemporary contexts, this groove appears in:
Desert blues and Sahel trance
Sephardic and Middle Eastern pastoral motifs
Minimalist folk, ambient ritual, and spiritual techno
Slow or downtempo house based on drones and human swing
Functionally, the Shepherd's Groove organizes people. It maintains the space for walking, watching, praying, slow dancing, or entering a trance. Its strength lies not in complexity, but in consistency with subtle human variations.


Organic percussion (bass drum, hand drums, shakers) marks the steady, breathing pulse of time, simulating the shepherd's gait and the watchful eye of the flock.
Drones and pads sustain a tonal center, creating a sense of open space and continuity, allowing the mind and body to enter a state of quiet alertness.
Modal melodies (Dorian, Phrygian, Aeolian, pentatonic) played with flutes, human voices, or soft synthesizers evoke nostalgia, invocation, and reflection.
Minimalist textures, where each layer fulfills a role: foundation, guide, and time marker, maintaining a balance between simplicity and depth.
The rhythm and progression of the soundtrack are designed to accompany the listener's perception, not impose themselves upon it. It plays with rhythmic micro-shifts, syncopations, and strategic silences, generating an organic movement that reflects both the earthly and the spiritual.
When there are voices, a mantra or collective calling style is used: short, repeatable phrases, with minimal but expressive ornamentation (microtones, glides, breaths), evoking a sense of guidance and community.
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