Spillin’ the tea on My Art

Spillin’ the tea on My Art

The seed of artistry or the awareness of being an artist sprouted during my early years in university.

For several semesters, I faced difficulties in one particular subject: mathematics. Although I now see beyond the complexity of its comprehension, back then, my active participation in class contradicted my struggles. I believe my lack of practice was the reason I found exams challenging. This situation persisted until I was fortunate enough to have Professor Octavio Bata. One summer, he proposed an exercise with basic math marbles to help us understand the topic. My project was to design a cooler, although I never fully developed it due to my lack of attention or interest in the object. It was then, the day before the presentation, that I improvised with a piece of wood and traced a sine formula on it. Using a nail, I made holes around this line since I didn't have a drill at the time. This process was meticulous and artisanal. Then, with a roll of wire, I wove strips with elliptical shapes to shape the wood, creating an organic and free-form structure, like a kind of "Zetas" or fungus on the wood. Upon finishing this piece, I realized, excitedly, that I had created a work of art unintentionally, and so I presented it as my project. This presentation allowed me to pass the subject with the highest grade, sparking the curiosity of the professor, who asked me to show it to the Mathematics faculty committee.

Shortly after, I shared my work with a friend and architecture theory professor, Luis Polito, who was impressed. He highlighted the interesting use of wood grain as a guide for the work, something I had not considered until then. This observation was the starting point for my first artistic explorations, which I called Kinetic Grains: where "dead" wood comes to life through art, reclaiming its essence, the immeasurable.

This moment was a turning point in my life, where I became aware of my identity as an artist, recalling the words of Carlos Cruz Diez: "The artist first creates and then generates discourse."

After creating several pieces and staging a show centered on this concept, my restless nature led me to reflect on how to express the intangible, to make art out of nothing, without a base like wood. Thus, I began using paper as a representation of nothingness, shaping reliefs through consecutive cuts on its surface to express this idea. This exploration culminated in my second solo exhibition, titled Studies in Paper.

By experimenting with other materials like plastic, I expanded the scope of my work, using forms derived from previous works and manipulating them in space and time. I altered their colors to create contrasts in movement and light, giving rise to the series Echoes. This new technique required a rigor and a pursuit of perfection opposed to the origins of my work with kinetic grains, eventually leading to an existential collapse in my artistic practice.

During my final university stage as an architect, I immersed myself in the world of technology, using programs like Rhinoceros for 3D modeling. This experience was crucial when the opportunity arose to intervene in the facade of a building. Inspired by the reflection of a lake on the building's silver facade, I developed the concept of "Surface Tension," using parametric elements to create sunscreens that protected the interior space.

The success of this series, combined with the increase in my sales, fed my ego. In hindsight, I see that the term "Surface Tension" not only referred to a physical phenomenon but also to an internal conflict that was unconsciously taking shape in my work…