The work we contemplate today is the stowage process of years of liturgy among rice fields. The slow process of distribution and storage of the soul's belongings. A generational connection furrowed by streams of ditches, flooded lives and green shoots in orbiting cubicles.
The pictorial mass intermingles with the swirls of dust that sweep across the vast arid expanse in the dry months. You can see hidden songs mingled with voices from elsewhere, leaves floating among the thousand shoots of mud and the pompous splash of the earth as it breathes.
The wild in the work is projected as an inner liberation, an impulsive flight towards new territories where to meet lost, forgotten or buried identities under forms that overlap. The need for wildness shifts between losses and encounters, between atavism and liberation to give shape to the latent imaginary of everything that tries to be born again.
To share the adventure, to live the nomadic, to take up the voice lost in the back of the throat, to submerge the feet in water that has taken possession of a celestial microcosm. To break it, to split it up, to make it disappear and in an exercise of voluntary loss, to surrender to the wild.