My first introduction to art took place in New York City in the early 1990s, when I became actively involved with a dynamic group of Brooklyn artists. The group’s central idea was to reclaim old industrial spaces and independently organize large-scale multimedia art events.

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These shows gave the public the chance to explore their own creativity while pushing the scale and abstraction of ideas. Encouraged by the spirit of experimentation, I began building ephemeral installations where audience participation was essential. Documentation was never a priority—I was more interested in the fire of the moment than in its ashes. The installations invited spectators to touch, manipulate, and physically explore the works, offering a freedom rarely found in traditional exhibition spaces.

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The raw industrial atmosphere of the abandoned factories, combined with the group’s rejection of “precious” untouchable art, produced a provocative and often chaotic environment reminiscent of Dada and Surrealist events. There was a sense of freedom and defiance—an opposition to how art was typically shown, packaged, and sold in the commercial world.

A key objective of these events was cross-pollination: bringing together people from diverse cultural backgrounds through visual communication, installations, film, performance, and music. This exchange of ideas created a bridge of understanding and a spirit of collaboration that transcended borders.

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The "Cats Head" shows, for example, took months of preparation and involved over one hundred visual artists, musicians, dancers, DJs, and technicians. Audiences grew from 700 at the first event to over 4,000 at the fifth and final show. Their success was rooted in the solidarity of a group that shared a common dream, creating an almost tribal infrastructure that enabled us to solve even the most difficult challenges. Though ephemeral, these one-night gatherings were in essence large-scale collective performances.

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In the midst of New York’s fast-paced, money-fueled environment, we managed to create a series of moments that had little to do with profit or polished aesthetics. Instead, they were grounded in instinct, raw energy, and invisible yet palpable forces. The process of preparation carried as much importance as the events themselves; the ultimate release was the night of the show, when the shared effort came to fruition.

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Joseph Beuys’s words capture the essence of the "Cats Head" credo:

 “What we are doing is living, and we are not moving toward the goal, but are, so to speak, actually at the goal constantly and changing with it; and that art, if it is going to do anything useful, should open our eyes to it.”

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This radical atmosphere was my true introduction to art. It has continued to shape the evolution of my practice, with the provocative spirit of those warehouse events frequently resurfacing in my performance work today.

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