Agosto

Visiting that small town in the hills of San Luis in the depths of August was an almost metaphysical experience. I had been there many times before, but never at that time of year.

The trees had lost all their leaves. The weeds and wild plants looked dry, almost hostile. Not a single flower. Only a few evergreens showed their sombre green. Everything else: white, black, grey. I began my drawings holding on to that idea. On grey paper I worked with black and white pencils.

We walked immersed in that strange landscape, savouring the absence of colour. “August is the month of death,” my friend said, and I reflected: “Yes, but only to come back to life tomorrow.” Death and life, the eternal opposites.

Back in the studio, wrapped in memories, I turned to the computer and scanned my spare, hurried sketches to uncover the mystery of so much line, chiaroscuro, deathlife, blackwhite, winter, contrast, nakedness… silence, symbolising all the opposites: warpeace, hatelove, daynight, coldheat… and to recreate them subjectively and, finally, enlarge them.