que saudades de casa
Editorial
Print (18×12)
Writing
Art direction
"Saudades de Casa" is a serie of posters designed as a gentle reminder of home for the Brazilian community in Toronto. A dictionary for untranslatable words. Each piece functions as a visual dictionary entry, presenting untranslatable Portuguese words alongside their poetic definitions. The design intentionally merges the two cultures, utilizing the color palette and shapes of the Brazilian flag layered with textures inspired by Toronto's subway stations. The typeface Averia Libre, with its hand-crafted and nostalgic feel, completes the composition, transforming each poster into both a linguistic tool and a shared point of cultural connection.
– designed at College Project
cafuné
It’s the silent language of affection, spoken only through the gentle act of running your fingers through someone’s hair, slowly, idly, with care. A cafuné can say: I’m here. You can rest now. It’s a shared pause from the world’s relentless pace, a moment where time softens without hurry. Time to close your eyes and let go. It’s love translated into motion, tenderness without words. It’s what happens when time loosens its grip, two breaths find the same rhythm, and you feel completely at home.
filtro de barro
It’s a clay water filter. It’s the slow wisdom of clay, turning ordinary tap water into the most refreshing sip on a scorching day. An orange monument in the corner of the kitchen, sometimes dressed in crochet, silently sweating. It’s not just a filter. It’s a time machine that takes us back to grandma’s house, where life moved at the pace
of a cake baking in the oven (is it ready yet, grandma?) and the coffee being brewed.
It’s the earthy taste and the quiet certainty that this water has been patiently cared for by the almost inaudible dripping of the filter.
A “filtro de barro” is a piece of Brazil that makes every glass of water taste like
being at home.
BOTECO
It’s a bar/pub on any Brazilian street corner, it’s where the noise of traffic blends with the laughter of strangers who quickly become lifelong friends. The plastic tables wobble, the snacks are delicious, the beer is ice-cold to beat the heat, and the conversations flow endlessly (just like the beer). It’s not about the place itself, but about the pauses between stories, the small kindness of shared cigarettes, the familiar figures who seem to live there, and Mr. Zé, who’s been running the place for more than thirty years with his little credit notebook. A “boteco” is where time and life can slow down.
