Poetry in lines and colors

Pelayo and his wife Elisenda couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw a very old man, ragged and dusty, moving slowly his huge pair of plucked wings in the chicken-run of their gardens. No one knew who he was and from where he came, it looked like he had been knocked down by a storm. He spoke just few words in an unknown, mysterious language. People from every corner of the village came to see this strange phenomenon, some of them mocked him, children kept throwing things to him, to see how he looked like in a standing position. A neighbour of the couple said he was an angel, but even the village priest looked at him with suspicion because he couldn’t understand a single word in Latin. Day after day the miserable creature bore with patience the malign attention of visitors, while Pelayo and Elisenda built themselves a new house with the earnings that came from ticket sales to every one who came to see him. After a short time, a more incredible creature appeared in the village: a ...

After the Second World War and until the late sixties, some homeless families occupied a few houses inside the court yard of my hometown castle, overlooking the lake. Among them my grandparents, who lived in a couple of rooms on the ground floor and in the walls you could still see the holes made by bombs. To me and my cousins this place was the most intriguing place in the world and during the long summer afternoons we used to play and invent stories in the lonely and dark rooms of the castle. Some years ago I found in a book an old photograph of that court yard, and the déjà-vu image inspired me this painting, mixing the memory of the fascinating place with the reminiscence of the fire-works shows called ‘the castle on fire’ that took place every year in September, during the Saint John feast. The result looks like an alien invasion of the place!

my 2011 New Year resolution: find more time to read some good books, nourishment of creativity…