I didn’t grow up in museums. I grew up in East L.A., where art was graffitied on buildings and overpasses. Loud, public, alive. The galleries I now teach about weren’t built for people like me. So I made them mine.

Now I live in Rome. The storied Caput Mundi. But my classroom is global. If you can log in, you’re in.

I don’t teach art history. I host it. My sessions aren’t lectures; they’re live, one-hour experiences that open up the image, the artist, and the context no wall label ever gives you. I teach from the screen, but it never feels static. It’s sharp, visual, cinematic. Like slipping into the right room at the right party.

I’m an ICOM member with a master’s in art history. But that only matters if it hits. What matters is knowing how to walk into a museum and actually feel what’s in front of you. To clock a Rothko and say something that shifts the room.

In today’s world, art isn’t just culture. It’s social currency. Knowing how to use it is fluency.

My work moves between Caravaggio and Kusama, Vermeer and Vanity Fair. Always visual. Always grounded. Never snobbish. I speak fluent museum and red lipstick. And I teach art not as a subject, but as a skill. Because once you can read an image, you can own a room.