ALAS DE PAPEL

Wide landscapes, open, of endless hills that hear the echoes of cicada. Flickering horizons that give in to hot nights of summer, territory of cricket's, small owls and tawny owls. Infinite peace of their starry skies. Fresh air trapped over a string of water that gifts poetry to the ear that listens to it in night's semi-darkness. 

Over these feelings, the mtivation to rescue pieces of a nature that, folded over itself, opens her door to whomever gets close to her with the desire of looking and watching, rests and grows.

Growing gifted of moments and corners that my memories recall as being once-in-a-lifetime, left a permanent imprint, an inevitably wide-open window to life's breeze. Trapped somehow in the necessity of recalling that beauty generated because of nature, in any corner, anywhere, so that it gives and guides the strokes, trying to entertain myself with it, share it and stating my point of view.

The starting point of a piece of work is always the direct experience in an open field. In there is everything. Sooner or later, nature shows you something that stands out from everything else, and there it is. Memory retains general aspects, the feelings, what's more subtle, what I need in order to use all the resources that I have. A note written in pencil, in colour, a photograph. Sometimes the work arrives to the studio almost finished, others, I put on the table everything I have collected that will later blend over the canvas.

Capturing in a paper the snapshot of a ephemeral beauty that flips through your fingers... finding myself face to face with the face of a nature that looks in the ways, a nature that has adopted the form of a pair of wings, paper wings...
                      Francisco José Hernández