Emotion as the motor of the artis
I need to live to live and I need to feel, move, touch, smell, taste, hear and then paint. Before life and painting, I always choose life.
Butterflies of a thousand colors I live among the machines of the city and the granaries of my town; Thus, I am neither a citizen nor a country man. I consider myself a contemporary wild man ”. I am full of contradictions and this is one of them. That is why it is so difficult for me to live, both in the country and in the city. Since I was a child I got used to the smells of paintings. My father is a painter and models clay. As a child, I spent winters looking at art encyclopaedias. One of the paintings that impressed me a lot at the time is Saturn Devouring His Children, by Goya. I also remember primitive art, El Greco, El Bosco … At school, growing up more and more, the teachers would scold me because I littered the books with my chaotic, strange drawings. I never drew Mortadelo and Filemón. I always remember as a child going with my father to look for corners in the deep Aragon and there to put the easel and paint naturally. Aguarón, Al Compartir, Tosos, Villanueva and many other towns. I helped him carry the materials, clean the brushes, etc.
Grow and suffer;