Days of golden dust, 2021

Oil on canvas These invented mountains support tons of memories and ambitions that invariably end up exploding and extinguishing everything around them. A solitary palm tree absently observes its inevitable destiny; the world’s conclusion is imminent. Those mounts that repeat themselves over and over again refer me to the mountain range that towers above Bogotá. I grew up with that chain of mountains as a geographical reference point; my north was determined by them. They were sentinels watching, and I always imagined what they must have seen eons ago. These scenes arise from the need to imagine what my own world would be like in another context, uninhabited, in a remote past or in a distant future. The prehistoric rosy sky like an ancient sunset. An eternal tropical climate placing us in a hypothetical Paleozoic time, in the midst of a constant reckoning between the elements. I saw that pink sky in the 2021 greek summer fires. I note them in the illustrations of dinosaurs books, accompanying the fateful fate carried by the executioner meteorite.