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Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts

Monday, 20 May 2013

DuDAs CoN eL IDEaL

             


 

             Dicen que la primera frase de un libro es la más importante ya que abre la puerta de la aventura, de la idea, del comienzo de un destino cambiante... pues lo realmente valioso e interesante es aquello que se mueve de un estado a otro conservando la frescura del renacer propio, de la esencia de la vida.

             Un ideal es aquello que existe en la mente, un compendio de valores y creencias asimilados y portados cual escudo en estandarte. Así un caballero fiel a su reino llega un día a la encrucijada mental, personal y profunda, en la víspera de una batalla que ya no siente propia sino ajena a su sentir y pensar. Su mente se expande y se paraliza en un determinado momento en el que todo confluye; es un momento de catarsis interior resultado de un largo navegar entre dudas, sensaciones e impresiones que a duras penas empezó a no poder colocar en aquel mismo lugar en el que antes parecían pertenecer a la perfección. Un momento en que su mente agotó todas las razones y la búsqueda de razones para seguir portando aquel estandarte que ahora siente tan pesado, además de azotado por la culpa de no poder dejar de ignorar el cambio que su alma ya acogió.

             Esta es la llegada al punto de inflexión, al momento sin retorno, a la inminente necesidad de hacer algo al respecto pues la carga es tan pesada... Hace tiempo que el veneno de ir en contra de su ser ha ido entrando en lo profundo de su alma, ha contaminado tantas células, que ahora no responden... en aquel estado de claridad de estar verdaderamente frente al borde de un abismo sin fondo y con un pasado que le reclama constantemente ser el que ya no siente que es.

           No tengas miedo, caballero, en el fondo del abismo te espero puesto que ya otros hemos dado aquel salto al vacío y la única muerte que vas a encontrar es la del veneno y de las cargas tan pesadas... quizá no recuerdes tu antiguo nombre, pero enseguida sabrás que tu nuevo yo habrá comenzado el proceso de regeneración donde toda vida se abre paso ante la dificultad.

Friday, 4 December 2009

My Christmas Cards / Mis postales de Navidad


These are the Christmas cards I made in watercolours for 2009/2010. 

Estas son las postales de Navidad que he realizado en acuarela para 2009/2010.


Saturday, 24 October 2009

Dot.


Dot.

Dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot. 

Dot.

Dot.      Sun      Dot.

Dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot. 

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot, dot.

Dot, dot.

Dot.

Tuesday, 13 October 2009

The Beetle in the Eye of the White Bear


An innocent beetle was attracted by the warm light of a white candle, 
during a dark, long, cold, quiet and lonely night...
It flew around in the gloom towards its light, dancing and buzzing, 
aroused by the spark of the serene flaming candle.
With curious gentleness it softly landed in the oily wax, 
dying instantly with a last thought of warmness and naivety.

Its death, wasn't in vain.
Death is change.  
It moved to a different state.

In ancient Egypt the beetle portrays the meaning of Life and Regeneration.
This time, this beetle landed in the eye of the white bear,
whom glows inside a golden light,
warmness behind those beautiful eyes...

Friday, 2 October 2009

Underwater portrait


Those bubbles of breath were of my own self 
capturing the reflection from underneath 
within the water stream 
collapsing upwards in movement 
for eventually disappear at contact 
with the air surrounding me...

Movement fades the self into something else.


Sunday, 27 September 2009

The Searcher

Barco / Boat

Hombre trípedo / Hombre en movimiento


Caminante sin destino aparente, con un sinfín de ideas mutantes,
ensombrecido en la búsqueda de un ideal que cae, resurge y vuelve a caer,
que juega y fallece y vuelve una vez más, a hacer cosquillas a esas ideas,
esos sueños de grandes paisajes que avivan el monótono andar de la vida en la ciudad...
de sus gentes, sus palabras perdidas en la lluvia, dragadas en los subterráneos del olvido,
para recordar, cada día, al amanecer, el calor de un alma viva y en movimiento,
el candor de un deseo que, cual combustible, arranca una sonrisa, cómplice de vida.  


Wednesday, 23 September 2009

Hands

These hands are footprints of an x ray sketch,
which has viewed the inside hollow of the sorrow,
with no more dead skin than in my borough,
birds and horses have been fetched,
without reason and not for wanting something else, 
hands up, bastard, you're gonna quench my thirst,
bloody nonsense, it's for something else,
slashed dash, smooth soothe,
smile at the smile, I can see it from a mile,
incredulity at your eyes,
the lips towards its final destination,
book of lotsense in modification...



Tuesday, 22 September 2009

Face of Thoughts


SPLASH!
I just cooked a lot of IFs.
I condimented them with BUTs.
Stirring them with sighs...

Candles with the shape "?"
lighten up the table...

I dressed it up with my best thoughts,
and sprinkled some fantasies on top...
They look like freckles under the sun of midday
or like a stolen smooth kiss by a dark doorway...

And I stared at the "?"s on the table,
and tried to look into my partner's face,
but he turned to be just a blurred shade,
when letters appeared in the steam itself.

Letters turned into full words,
and words into right answers...
Suddenly I started to hear something...
later realizing my heart was whispering!

At first it was indeterminate nonsense,
then, it turned into comprehensible truth...
And the candles on the table melted,
turning from "?" shape into "!" shape... 


 

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

Lady in Blue


She looks fragile in her skinny shape,

under a relentless sun in the sky,

wandering a vast empty space,

fate and dreams pass by...




Thursday, 20 August 2009

My cat



These two drawings are of my cat, Rasta.

I can't bring my cat from Spain to London because is unbelievably expensive, with exhausting bureaucracy, for me and for the cat, and a journey full of difficulties, which at the end of the day, the cat has to suffer as well. Is just a cat!!!

The process to bring your cat to England is like if the cat is a suspect of terrorism... and even I have to be pleased, because years ago, pets traveling to UK had to spend a few months on quarantine, in a cage, somewhere Grey.

I'm upset, what can I say, because of that, and other things as well.

Nevermind...

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

What goes round comes round


This image is a scene of a part of a garden of a house I lived in. This tree is a Holm oak (encina), and our garden had 38 of those trees. The garden was organized within the trees placement and the house was built in order to have the field containing as much of these trees as possible. My mother planted loads of aromatic bushes and flowers and we left the main field with the majority of trees creating a small Holm oak forest, where we had a hammock in between 2 trees and was the best place for reading, relaxing or drinking a refreshment. The garden was decorated with sporadic pots and amphora like pitchers, as you can see in the drawing, and the paths were delimited with small rocks put in a line drawing the garden's natural shapes. We also had a pond with aquatic plants and small fishes.
We had to sell the house. We accepted an offer of a guy with gold necklaces and rings. We said the condition to sell the house was to protect these trees, which they are classified as protected trees. He accepted, although, he said he will remove a couple of them by being transplanted to another place so he could get more light in the house. Everyone was happy. The house was sold.
My family left to live away and I moved to another house in the same area. A month later, in mid summer, they called me to go there and collect the post. I went to the house, and at first sight, I saw the wood piled up by the front wall. I thought they should be very organized as it was too early to buy wood at that time of the year. When I turned my eyes to the garden I felt my heart stopping out of a sudden.

The field was bare.

The trees were ALL cut, but 4 trees displaced at the corners of the field, and the plants were left to die of drought. 34 Holm oaks.

All the memories were slaughtered in a blink inside my heart, too.

I built a painful knot in my throat and my eyes started to water. The knot affected my breath and adrenaline was flushing through my veins. A classic liar, another bastard. The kind of people you'd like them to disappear from the surface of Earth. All those years caring about something, building it, loving it, shaping it in the tremendous slowness that nature is typical of, ... everything was destroyed now, in a few weeks. The last kind of people you would like to sell your home: the ones are going to destroy it. With my stomach pulled I walked towards his door. I knocked his door. He opened the door. 'Oh, yes, the post... here it is!', he told me with a smile.
The rage I was feeling in those moments was clouding my speech and I didn't really know how to say what I wanted to say. How upset I was. How impotent I felt. I took the post with my both hands, and I looked into his eyes. Tears of rage were falling down my cheeks while I inquired him he lied to us, that he was a bastard and never again I will be pleased to talk to him or his wife, because he was a man without WORD, and that is one of the most disgusting aspects of man.
I turned around and left. He called me later, trying to make me understand that they wanted to live their dreams too and to create their space too, and to built their home as well. He said the house was theirs and therefore, they could do with it what they wanted; it was their property now. Nevertheless, for me, it doesn't forgive him for lying in the deal, when it was so clear, when we had other buyers that loved it as it was, but needed more time to get the money. Who created all this tension? Them, because of lying to get the house as soon as possible? Or us, because we couldn't wait to the other people for over a month to sell the house? When you have a buyer, you sell, isn't it?

Since then, every time I had to pass by the house the knot, the rage and the stomach pulled in aroused in my feelings. I always wished to have the courage to punch the wheels of his car, to draw a graffiti on his fence, or similar stuff that I daydreamed while I passed by. I never did anything. I lived my life and moved on.

Now, 6 or 7 years later, some rumors come to my ears. The house is going to be repossessed by the bank as they can't pay the mortgage, they had arguments and fights with home services suppliers because of not paying bills since a year ago, and the house looks abandoned and very deteriorated. It seems is not their home anymore either.

But I don't care anymore. Or should I dress up like a devil, toast wine with my friends and laugh about them? Anyway, I let the universe do the job. I can build my home everywhere I go, as beautiful as I want, and with all the patience is needed to, ...as a good stateless. ;)

Thursday, 13 August 2009

Free will at Mind

We can't change certain things, but we can change the way they affect to us,
despite how circumstances and experiences have shaped our characters,
there's always something about ourselves that we are able to choose...
We can choose up to which point the situations we go through are affecting us,
and we can choose the responses we give to them...
how we walk in the world, how we listen,
how we say things, how we express out there...
how we wait, how we surrender, how we win...



Monday, 10 August 2009

The Gypsy


Her only home was her people
changing landscapes taught her freedom

wisdom given by the stars at night
charming with her dance at sight

endless traveler broken hearted
wishing Love will come and find her


Saturday, 8 August 2009

Things tend to balance


When something happens,
another thing happens that compensates the other...
even when you don't realize at first time,
not necessarily what your ego would love to happen,
but just the necessary thing for getting you balanced again...
everything is connected
one thing leads to another


Friday, 31 July 2009

Square Dance

Another example of relationship of movement with the music. In this case, the video is made of still photographs, and the music is Debussy. The choreography is classical and very fun to watch. The key is the use of simple elements that create an intricate structure of simplicity and varied movement material in terms of directions, floor patterns, relationships between the subject in movement and its response to the possibilities of shape, dynamics, structure...

Blooming



Reproduction of one of Osho's Tarot cards.
A present I made for my mother.

Thursday, 30 July 2009

Colours

This video about colour follows an impeccable relationship with the music in a very simple movement pattern in terms of directions, but it turns to be visually very entertaining, and the movements of the colours dissolving in the aquatic medium is kind of hypnotic. Watch it:



I found this in a very cool blog: Lameplay © International Humor