Leaves. Hojas

These leaves have a Mandelbrot fractal as basis of the image. But, this is not a Mandelbrot fractal.

Pitufo. The Smurf

My version of one of the smurfs or ¨pitufos¨ in Spanish. One of the oldest.

Settlement in the desert. Asentamiento en el desierto

This is a representation of an archaeological settlement, it could be in the sand but I envision it in a desert land in North America, maybe Chaco Canyon. This is round because it has indigenous kivas, and the long lines around the settlement represent  the idea of the mystical roads that connected them. The color is the same as the territory, because the buildings materials are taken from it. Earth, landscape, buildings become mass.

The origin of this painting is not an aerial picture. But it pretends to be.

Urban density. Densidad urbana

A digital painting based on the idea of urban sprawl.

The earth is born. La tierra nace.

Towels under the sun. Toallas bajo sol

My family is pretty messy leaving the towels in the bathroom. So, trying to find the good side of it, this time I didn´t put them in order but took a fainted picture at night. I manipulated it imagining they were under the sun. Then, I arranged them in the towel hanger...patiently as always.

Rain on the water. Lluvia en el agua

This is an exercise with noise and reflexes.

Amphibian head. Cabeza de anfibio

Bosque. Woods

A dense forest defined only by its edges.

SONNET VI

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig

and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:

maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,

a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed

deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,

a shout muffled by huge autumns,

by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig

sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance

climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind

cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---

and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

SONETO VI

En los bosques, perdido, corté una rama oscura

y a los labios, sediento, levanté su susurro:

era tal vez la voz de la lluvia llorando,

una campana rota o un corazón cortado.

Algo que desde tan lejos me parecía

oculto gravemente, cubierto por la tierra,

un grito ensordecido por inmensos otoños,

por la entreabierta y húmeda tiniebla de las hojas.

Pero allí, despertando de los sueños del bosque,

la rama de avellano cantó bajo mi boca

y su errabundo olor trepó por mi criterio

como si me buscaran de pronto las raíces

que abandoné, la tierra perdida con mi infancia,

y me detuve herido por el aroma errante.

Poetry by Pablo Neruda.

House in La Boca, Buenos Aires. Casa en la Boca.

I took this picture in 2002, walking in the neighborhood of La Boca, Buenos Aires. It was originally built by Italian immigrants, with the materials and paintings they could take from the ships. This is one of those old houses. Now, it's a memory for me, so I like to show it as a painting. It's nice to see how the tree branches and the lamp posts are in equilibrium with the horizontal lines of the metal sheets. Verticality against horizontality.
Coming back to my previous post Is photography a representational art? one could ask if, there was need for me to touch the original photograph, if this kind of ¨painting¨ is better than my picture. In this case, I should say, yes, this version is better, if it shows my objectives, the emphasis on textures and yuxtaposition of lines. The picture was taken with one of the first digital cameras and did not reflect what I wanted. The original was representational for the house, but not for my intentions.