The law of gravity. The first thing to happen after the Big Bang. The attraction between things, between bodies. The attraction to the Earth that prevents us from escaping. The curse of Icarus. Since I was a child, I’ve always perceived gravity as a counterforce. Like the impossibility of flying. My recurring dreams were about flying. I flew freely until it turned into a nightmare when I couldn’t land.
I looked at the skies, the planets, and dreamed of journeys, of freeing myself from my body and traveling. Unfolding myself was another way of resorting to travel. I don’t know if in spirit or in imagination, but I traveled to distant planets and solar systems. The emptiness of infinite space didn’t scare me, but on the contrary, gave me peace.
Floating in the void, or constantly falling into the void, was the sensation that accompanied the nights. I fell for so long that I thought of myself as a meteorite. I left a trail of fire behind me. Fire walks with me.
Reproducing clouds or rain would be the way I approached the artistic gesture. Only the second semester passed, and I discovered that the habitual nature of my past was the material of my artistic creation. It was at this moment that I realized that my work mediated the temporality of clouds and rain into the true question to be answered as an artist. The question is about how to be in the world. Like the cloud or the rain, my life was a passing phenomenon. I wanted to be the pilot of my life, not a passenger.
The inclement weather was a threatening landscape for the pilot, but it was undoubtedly an experience of awe in the face of the force of nature. Contemplating its power and beauty was an aesthetic experience. Faced with the storm and the lightning, my own existence became ephemeral and insignificant. But seeing the smallness of my own life, the question that emerged was about death. My own death.
How to face death, the only certainty in my life, as an expression of the anguish I felt as a creator. The answer was laid out in the path of my life. But it’s difficult to look forward as one looks back. Time, not only atmospheric, but ontological, was the material I had to resolve. But if that’s the only way to see it? What was the point of repeating the question that befalls all humans? How to project this experience and this question as an artistic experience?
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