Acrylic on satin
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.