Is Life Under The Sun Not Just a Dream

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?*

To me, it seems to exist an exact time during the day when things are revealed under the warmest sun, bringing out their own, mute, truth. Wondering at the margins of southern Europe realities, where the ephemeral remains of everyday life are improvised temporary sculptures and the slag of a breaking classicism acquires its own life, I wish with my work to punctuate this search in the ordinary.

Like the child, the protagonist in the extract of Peter Handke's poem, I wanted to start doubting my own perception, being interested in some of the subjects that for Gilles Clément form the so-called third landscape, I sought the metaphysical facades of these places for tension created between an ambiguous human presence and the surface of things.

By placing a geographical limit on my research, I wanted to focus on states such as Portugal, Italy, Greece and Spain, southern countries of the Continent that more than others still show the aftermath of the last economic and social crisis.

By investigating the surfaces and proposing a dreamlike representation of the contemporary realities of these places, I want my work to create a visual perception of a mental Southern Europe.