Painting on canvas, I arrived at a moment at which I felt myself coming up against a limit, with a surface that had a beginning and an end. Painting no longer seemed to flow in the same direction as my inner voice, so I decided to investigate new supports that might offer me a greater level of relief, texture and format. That was how I found the stave: a toasted plank of oak used to enhance the flavor of wine. When I learned that winemakers occasionally rejected some of these planks because of imperfections, knots, and fissures in the wood, it occurred to me that I might be able to give them a change, a second life.

As if playing a game, I began to arrange these planks on the floor, freely placing them in clusters depending on the intensity of the toasted effect, maintaining the characteristic verticality of the forest.

The first things that came to mind were the Cubist collages and the sculptures of Umberto Boccioni and Claudio Girola. When the time came to add color, in my mind’s eye I saw the palette of Juan Gris and Giorgio Morandi, and the directional rhythms of Francisco Méndez.

I began to paint the reliefs in two different ways: by applying color to some of the staves to give meaning to each composition, and by producing patinas so as to create atmospheres that might envelop the color with transparencies, light and shadows that either blended or clashed with the background.

It is in this relationship of harmony and discord between the reliefs and the painting that my objective lies: the dynamic confluence between the concrete, heavy nature of oak and the illusory, light quality of color. With these planks I create living surfaces, and with the paint I create the atmospheres that engender new illusory reliefs.