written By
William Pate, San Antonio Review: Tell us about yourself: where you’re from, what you make, and the one thing you want people to feel when they see your work.
Rodrigo Silveira: My name is Rodrigo Silveira, I’m 31 years old, and I’m from Montevideo, Uruguay, specifically from the Cordón neighborhood. Since I was little, I’ve always had this need to express myself visually—whether by drawing, painting, or shaping figures out of clay and plasticine.
I mainly work as a tattoo artist, but I don’t think introducing myself that way truly represents who I am. I feel more like an artist or illustrator who also happens to put designs onto people’s skin.
SAR: If you had to explain pelusa to someone who’s never seen it, what would you say?
RS: The “pelusa” (fluff) is the fruit produced by the plane tree (Platanus x hispanica), which can be found all over the city and the country (and, from what people have told me on social media, also in Argentina and Chile).
If I had to explain it to someone from abroad, I’d say it’s basically an airborne blanket of irritation and allergies floating around from September until the end of the year. It’s probably the most common tree in the city—or at least the most controversial one—because in summer it gives you shade, in winter it protects you a bit from rain and wind, and then in spring the allergic apocalypse breaks loose.
SAR: Take us back to the first year you made it “Muerte a la pelusa.” What annoyed you (or delighted you) enough to start an annual tradition?
RS: The art related to la pelusa was born out of my own allergy and discomfort toward it. The first illustration came about in 2019, and when I shared it on Instagram, it caused a bit of a stir and made my friends and clients laugh. So I decided to turn that design into stickers to give away, and that’s when I noticed even more empathy with this concept that I had created almost by accident.
It’s been a form of expression that keeps growing thanks to people’s responses—and that’s the most beautiful thing that can happen to an artist.
SAR: Walk us through this year’s piece—first sketch, palette choices, the moment you knew it was done.
RS: This year’s piece, Muerte a la pelusa Vol. VI, is my most ambitious painting to date. It combines a vibrant palette surrounded by more muted tones to create a striking visual contrast. It measures 1 by 1.20 meters and is an adaptation of Muerte a la pelusa Vol. IV, a print I made last year that tells an epic battle between an army of frogs and an army of pelusas.
In this year’s version, I’m bringing the scene to life in acrylic on canvas. It’ll be shown on October 18th at Fuzz Café—a place that feels like home and where I’m proud to hold my first solo exhibition as an artist.
SAR: Why do you think the image resonates so widely? Is it complaint, celebration, or both?
RS: I think the concept resonates because there’s this shared hatred of la pelusa. It only causes eye and throat irritation, endless allergies, and that itchy feeling when it gets inside your clothes. That’s where my work comes in—to illustrate that mix of negative sensations and share them through humor and art.
SAR: You’ve joked that pelusa is your muse. What’s the real relationship between irritation and inspiration for you?
RS: I must confess that la pelusa is also my muse because I find it beautiful (visually speaking): its golden tones and the plane tree’s bark are stunning, especially on rainy days. I steal a bit of those colors to create my painting palette.
SAR: People swap all kinds of tales about how these trees became so common. What versions have you heard? What feels true to you as a citizen-observer?
RS: There are thousands of myths and stories about how plane trees arrived in Uruguay, and honestly, I love hearing or reading the variety of tales that have evolved over the years. One of my favorites says that a politician or businessman brought them here in the late 19th century trying to imitate Parisian landscaping. The story goes that he partied away almost the entire budget and, with the leftover money, bought the worst possible tree—thus condemning us all.
SAR: Tell us about your frog character and your collabs with local skateboard crews—how do those worlds cross-pollinate with the pelusa series?
RS: My passion for drawing and painting frogs also began in 2019, when I lived almost the entire year in Sweden. After a week of heavy rain and being stuck indoors, my partner and one of our best friends and I decided to go for a walk. We lived next to a forest, and with every step, frogs of all shapes, colors, and sizes—ranging from 5 mm to over 13 cm—would jump out.
After that, every time I sat down to draw, I felt the urge to sketch a frog. Their anatomy isn’t that different from humans, and they make me laugh—they’re so versatile when it comes to dressing them up, tattooing them, or adapting them to any artistic style. Just like with la pelusa, people found them funny too, which keeps me motivated to keep drawing them forever.
I’ve also managed to unite two of my three great passions—skateboarding and painting (the third being tattooing). I’m sponsored by República skateshop, which provides me with decks to paint and ride. I use a transparent grip tape so the artwork stays visible when I’m out skating.
SAR: What tools do you keep in reach when pelusa season hits? Brushes? Pens? Digital? What’s non-negotiable?
RS: I try to use all the tools and knowledge I have when creating new paintings for the Muerte a la pelusa collection, and the one thing that remains constant is that they’re all done in a medieval style, which I find both fun and challenging.
They can range from watercolor, tempera, oil pastels, acrylics, or chalk on paper or canvas, to linocut prints carved with blades and gouges to make a series of prints.
SAR: What are you working on now, and will pelusa show up in it (even if only as an inside joke)?
RS: Right now, my partner Lucía González and I are working on the Muerte a la pelusa event happening on October 18th at Fuzz Café (Ciudadela 1424). We’ll bring everything we can to share with everyone who comes by.
The idea is to exhibit the six paintings created so far and, at the end of the event, hold a raffle for two acrylic-painted decks, of course themed around la pelusa.
There’ll also be a small market with Lucía’s printed designs—t-shirts, tote bags, and banners—and I’ll be bringing sets of ten stickers, prints, engravings, paintings, and a few surprises to give away.
SAR: Where in the city is the pelusa most photogenic to you?
RS: The places where I’ve seen the biggest “golden snowfall” are in the plazas along 18 de Julio Avenue—especially Plaza de los Bomberos—and on certain streets that turn into “hell’s corridors,” where block after block is lined with plane trees.
SAR: Do you keep a running list of ideas between seasons?
RS: I keep a list that keeps growing, especially in spring, when I feel most inspired.
I’ve got far more ideas than time to bring them to life, so when I sit down to create something new, I focus on the one that excites me the most—or sometimes I merge several ideas together to give the piece more layers of originality and humor.
SAR: Favorite comment anyone’s ever left on a pelusa post?
RS: Fortunately, I couldn’t pick just one comment that stands out because there are so many creative ones, and the pelusa universe keeps expanding every day. People take your idea and send it back with more creativity, making a bigger and bigger snowball (or fluffball). Little by little, Muerte a la pelusa is turning into a kind of social movement—and who knows where it will end up.
SAR: Anything else to add/share with our readers?
RS: We’d love to invite everyone to the event—to share some time, a chat, and our common hatred for la pelusa.
Art and coffee were made to be shared, and what better excuse to meet and get to know each other than over a cup?
And personally, thank you if you’ve made it all the way here—it really means a lot to me.
