The wooden frame is the anxiety produced by the undone – in progress – activity. The uncertain future, the work ahead.
What works better as a symbol of the possibilities?
The wood that holds everything has a new meaning, as I observe things unravelling in front of me.
Probably one of the things I miss most about Bogotá is its mountains, waiting as sentries. One of the recurring images I have is a vast terrain crowned by mountains. It could be a way of depicting a beginning and an end, beyond all human footprint, in a territory like the Cundiboyacense plateau.
I keep doing shits but – fuck! – this pressure. To whom should I work for but to myself? I’m having more fun than ever with this tiny notebook.
Oil and acrylic on fabric mounted on wood.
You have to start at some point, build something from the scratch. I personally don’t know, but at this point I feel comfortable doing small stuff.
Let’s see how it goes.