I am currently building a catalog of my work, not as a conclusion but as a way of understanding where I stand. Over the past years, drawings, paintings, travels, installations, and fragments of lived experience have accumulated faster than I could fully process them. Now I need to see what actually exists, what holds, what returns, and where my work truly lives.
While organizing material from my first exile, nearly nine months of movement through cities and landscapes, I realized how much has been recorded. Thousands of photos and videos, moments of departure and arrival, cheap hotel rooms, streets, studios, small sales of paintings, uncertainty, decisions taken in motion. I have started uploading these archives to YouTube, often without titles or descriptions, simply to secure them first. Reels and fragments are also finding their way back onto Instagram, even if they were filmed two years ago.
Strangely, watching this material feels like stepping into a time machine. Toledo, Madrid, Granada, AlmerÃa, Los Escullos. Each place carries emotional weight, decisions made under pressure, moments when the next step was unclear. Seeing this again now reveals a continuity I did not perceive while living it. What seemed chaotic begins to show patterns.
Exile III, the present phase, is not only about painting or drawing. It is also about documenting, building installations, filming processes, experimenting with movement and space. Much of it is improvised, sometimes rough, sometimes amateur in appearance, but it is real. Things are being built, recorded, and shared. Movement itself becomes material. Camera motions, spatial dynamics, cinematic references, all enter the work. Influence comes from many places, including cinema, where atmosphere and movement shape perception as strongly as narrative.
At the center of my practice remains drawing. Figures still emerge often through detours rather than direct construction. Disturbances, interruptions, organic and geometric forms collide until something stabilizes and a figure appears. I rarely fully control this process. Many drawings succeed accidentally, through combinations I did not plan. My task is to create conditions where such emergence becomes possible.
Recently, the environment here in Mexico has intensified this process. The coexistence of abundance and decay, tropical vegetation, night processions, fireworks, old trucks still in daily use, everything feels layered. Life and erosion exist side by side. Nothing is fully polished or removed. This closeness of opposites enters the drawings. Dense vegetation becomes structure, chaos becomes rhythm, disorder becomes composition.
I do not consider myself an academic draftsman. My work is less about perfect representation than about intensity and presence. Many artists I admire operate similarly, searching for atmosphere and psychological or spatial tension rather than technical purity. Painters like Francis Bacon, Peter Doig, or even Henri Rousseau found their language outside strict academic frameworks. Each created worlds through persistence rather than formal correctness. This lineage feels closer to my own search.
The catalog I am assembling now serves a simple but urgent purpose. If something happened to me tomorrow, no one would know which works truly mattered, which drawings opened doors, which experiments marked turning points. I need to see this myself. To recognize where the figures become alive, where the process holds energy, and where it collapses.
Looking back also reveals progress. Drawings I could not have made three years ago now appear naturally. Time spent drawing daily, studying masters, comics, contemporary artists, repeating attempts, failing often, all accumulate quietly. Improvement is not sudden but layered.
The next step will be translating this accumulated work into larger formats. Large canvases still intimidate because decisions become irreversible. But the drawings already point toward them. Structures, cages, grids, spirals, organic distortions, figures bending or collapsing into each other, these elements are waiting to expand into larger spaces.
For now, the task is simple: gather, sort, understand. Accept the imperfect, the unfinished, the accidental successes. Continue working. Continue documenting. Continue moving.
This is not an ending, only a moment of orientation within a longer process.
The work continues.