One way to ward off bewilderment and uncertainty during confinement has been the practice of drawing. As a sculptor I have always been interested in drawing as a way of understanding certain objects and capturing states that in their evanescence distance me from my natural tendency towards the concept. I start the series of drawings intuitively, and the distance in time loads them with densities that are not evident during the process. I sense that, for this reason, in my series of drawings there is certain dialectical tension between form and structure, between object and phantasmagoria.

I am attracted to drawing materials such as dust, ash, graphite, ink, iodine, or processes as the action of sunlight or humidity on paper. In the slow process of making the images appear, some disappear due to the decisions made to focus more on the texture or the context, and others are altered by the action of atmospheric conditions, the intervention of water or the denial of the previous drawing.

The walks made in the various phases of mistrust and the renewed gaze on some natural elements of the nearby landscape have made me understand the environment again as a unique and irreplaceable medium, of which we are not owners or even managers. We would do enough to be good travel companions and consider that our cultural package is the compass that we carry to interpret our relationship with the world, but that we cannot impose as the only instrument of orientation. Learn again to read stones, plants, insects as an ancient language that we abandon to embrace at the speed of progress. On the threshold of the metropolis, I find phrases built with this language and lines of verses that have been left at ground level and detach me from the weight of the learned culture.