December 17, 2021 - February 1, 2022
The soul is born as empty, its content is an enigma, a living nothing, naked body, without reason, without direction, profoundly anonymous. Soul is just a name, an extremely subtle, elusive “something”, in a world of forcefulness where everything is observed according to weight, measure and reason.
Existence as we know it, potentially serves as a dress for the soul.... Ether generator of life and movement and its dynamics here are the shape, volume and color trying to make it visible wrapped in a world of intensities... Weight and lightness , instability and fragilities, war and peace and their possible consequences. Adventure of honesty… expanding our nudity, constant life and death, delusions embracing strengths, dear love… and metaphysical transparencies.
Clamores is part of the logbook of that investigation and its mystery; it delivers elements of the cosmos to intuition so that metaphysics can do and undo according to its essence and accept a manifestation in plastic form.
Metal and its genome of forces is a first stage in this journey. In this effort, he manages to detach himself from the dictatorship of matter, to rise like feathers and descend dressed in forms of shadows, allowing the ethereal to be part of him. In this dimension, color settles, and matter tends to its unity, reaching its essence of form, the sphere, a body of circumferences. All the curves are legitimate children of that unity, the dance of a great herd of gestures and colors, a precise expression of diversity and unity where joy and sorrow coexist without confrontation, and the movement, which was born without father or mother, is continuous.
The suggestion of the sea is an invitation that the author accepts. The sea is a landscape that contains the expression of the curved in freedom in a mass that under its skin continues all forms and directions of movement, it rises as aspiration and collapses as failure incorporating its hoarse voice in a murmur of life and mystery, dance is its inevitable consequence and with it the figure emerges as a flower of all that is human.…
A marsh of fleeting grays and colours, fragile, unstable, elegant shapes…. Metaphor of a cosmos of emotions in motion, always instants of our inner landscape, sometimes scratches, sometimes caresses.