Painting is like taking a long exposure photo of the soul’s moving forces: a still image that reveals what’s happening in the dark. 

 

When a feeling invades me I grab a blank canvas and practice automatic drawing (surrealism). Once I see the shape in the scribbles, I refine it with pencils or blobs of digital paint. I think of colors in terms of light, because I’ve trained on digital painting before learning how to properly mix pigments. When painting raw emotions there’s no reference to look at, so I’m currently exploring 3D sculpting to study how light works in my real-imaginary world.

 

Turning emotions into characters that look “alive”, requires my hand to surrender to forces I don’t fully understand, although they are key to our behavior. Making them visible aims to reach beyond myself: Characters become different entities in each person’s imagination, as I don’t paint specific gender, race or species. Their stories are re-written by personal experiences, every time a pair of fresh eyes sees them. And when we share these particular views, we learn from each other. 

 

As a nomad streetartist this exchange took a massive scale, reaching people outside the art circles, across cultures worldwide. This feedback revealed that sensitivity is a universal language, and imagination, a sparkle against social numbness. We all have these tools, but don’t train them everyday. I insist we do. So I leave reminders in daily life, creating free space among grey walls.

On the outside, the more I travel, the smaller the world gets. On the inside, the more I inquire the deeper it gets. This drives me to continue researching and sharing, because when I look around I feel I am not one but millions of creatures in an endless entanglement. Unraveled bit by bit, one brushstroke at a time.

Ordes, Galicia, Spain

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