The ages of man
Four pieces.
Acrylic on wood.
43 x 86 in.

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The ages of man

This is a reflection on some recurring questions: the passage of time, aging, decay, disease and death. Although I have used four different models, in a way, these are four life-size self-portraits – a depiction of four stages in life.

The series contains much of the "Unamunian" angst on the immortality of the soul. It examines the relationship between each individual’s spiritual part and their body, the physical and temporal envelope that contains it. The composition, lighting and setting in some way make reference to religious art, emphasising my disturbing fear that our spirit disappears when our body is extinguished.

 

Dreams
Four pieces.
Acrylic on wood.
43 x 43 in.

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Dreams

This is my examination of female nature through the women in my life: my daughters, my niece, my wife. They belong to that world which as a man I find mystifying, but which is so indispensable and so inexplicable. I try to catch a glimpse of this world as they dream, and their sleep is a metaphor of that universe of female codes I often find impossible to embrace but which provide tenderness and calm for my existential tension.

 

September
Four pieces.
Acrylic on wood.
39 x 39 in.
(Work in progress)

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September

Series evoking childhood. “September” is those interminable summers, the tepid light of dusk, the comforting breeze of the last days at the seaside…

My obsessions with decay and aging find some refuge in my earliest memories. This is the time when every path is yet to be travelled, every dream is possible and one does not even suspect the certainties of life.

 

Construction/Deconstruction
Four pieces.
Acrylic on wood.
Size 48 x 59 in. and 96 x 59 in.
(Work in progress)

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Construction/Deconstruction

In “Construction and Deconstruction” I project my recurring concerns on the inexorable passage of time, decay and the transcendence of our actions onto the urban landscape.

I am interested in architecture beyond the mere aspect of urban planning, insofar as it sustains the question of how much of our spirit lives on in our actions. The building is a metaphor of the body itself, a second skin, an envelope that plays host to many of the acts we perform in our lives. To a certain extent, it is also where our soul resides. Like us, it emerges from a jumble of chaotic and inert material and returns to the same state at the end of its life cycle.