Viento De Primavera

From the exhibition *Silencio y Materia*, curated by Jorge Pietrowski

In Taganga, after 4:00 PM, there is an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere. A silence begins to creep in, and suddenly, birdsong rings out with greater clarity. The warm light begins to caress shapes, lending them relief and presence. The sun no longer bites mercilessly; instead, it touches gently, and one feels the pleasure of being illuminated. Nature busies itself finishing its tasks, settling in for the silently approaching night. A couple of hours later, as the sun is swallowed by the night, it casts out rays and shafts of light that illuminate the world in an explosion across the sky, constantly shifting into the most incredible and wondrous colors.

It is my habit to practice yoga on the studio terrace at sunset, to let go of the day and settle into the night. For a long time, my mind was filled with these images, and a desire arose in me to seek out that form and color. One day, I decided to follow that impulse and embarked on this new exploration. In that moment, a new dimension took hold of my painting.

What had previously been a contained form exploded outward. It dissolved into the fluidity of the paint washes, into rivers of color that mingled to create unexpected tones. Light and shadow confronted one another, breathing life into each other, mimicking the movements of the heavens.

Contemplating the sunset day after day opened me up to the powers of dusk—the gateway to the night, to the unknown, to darkness, and to pure potential—where the soul returns to the void; these forces took possession of me.

The months that followed were a time of ceaseless creation. Since my materials ran out quickly, I ended up painting on both sides of the canvas. I worked on large formats, painting immense skies. The studio filled with works in progress—pieces that underwent radical transformations day by day, in an endless cycle of change.

This was a marvelous period for my painting. Being immersed in the creative process for months led me to a state of happiness and wonder at what was emerging on the canvas. And also of perplexity… What I saw manifesting was precisely what painters throughout history have sought—and what I, in my eagerness to give form to the invisible, had previously shunned: light, space, depth, and atmosphere.

Back to square one. I have to relearn how to paint. I need to explore the myriad forms, formulas, and techniques required to achieve that sense of deep space cultivated by my predecessors. There is a very fine line where a mark transforms into a form, and I wanted to preserve the fresh, spontaneous spirit of the mark, free from figurative references.

Yet, the magic of the mark lies in how it lends itself to the myriad interpretations of our minds. The works accompanying this exhibition are meant to be contemplated—as imagined apparitions—within the mind of the viewer.