The jungle grows with impetus, crosses walls, and goes through windows. It is the force that resists abandonment, the branches that break the stillness, filling with free and organic forms. Brushstrokes that translate moods and embrace emotions that extend from the painting itself. It can be an easy process or something strong and devastating, it can take two days, three years, a few hours or be endless. The important thing is to reach the point of final submission, determined by the exercise of letting go.

Being a foreigner in my own country is a common thing, in Panama, almost all of us have ancestors that came from somewhere else. That mixture defines us, the geographical ambivalence and the search for the sense of belonging, works the ground that drives me to the creative process. Indeed this creates what I call the wild thinking, a way of amalgamated, confused and intense reasoning, an accelerated way of thinking, an attempt to verbalize the same tangle that grows between trees and tin roofs, which is also within us.
Until now I have thought the memory as something distant and blurred; a sweet and affectionate invention that was only real for me. Then I felt the need to trace a way back, to find the closeness between distant spaces, the thread that connects the trace of the past with this alternate present that we are living in.

My painting proposal presents a sort of arbor in the foreground, it is an exploration of dense and rare wild landscapes. Layers and layers, appearing and disappearing, referring to a feeling of being totally covered. The submerged composition with loose strokes addresses the phenomenon of unpredictable growth that exists in this tropical region.
This visual work involves tests of color and form where the transparent dripping predominates and the free splashing that was previously conceived as an error, becomes part of a material reflection.

Inside the paintings there are bodies covered by bushes, ghostly figures that are hidden. In spite of that, their presence breathes under the foliage. Being embraced by the jungle makes them feel safe, the sprout that falls on the ground has a balance that contains them. They embrace all the possible versions of me that exist, superimposed and delimited by the edges of the frame.
I am interested in seeing how questions of individual memory can also reflect aspects of collective memory. A reflection on forgetfulness, identity and nature (naturalness or familiarity), the spaces where anecdotes and imagination meet, the need to create a story from not knowing my own origin.