Tears enveloped the tender face of the bride in white as she abandoned the altar of roses and her pile of robes to the ravages of time.
The past forcefully surviving in the present.
In the sleepless and stormy night two round, yellow eyes wait silently for the arrival of the savior.
In this house where he was born lived days of serene affection GEN. Mariano B., distinguished archaeologist.
In life there is no place sadder than an empty bed. (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Tattooing as an eternal artistic product and the tattoo artist the ephemeral part.
A division between the sacred (the abandoned place) and the profane (the society). Only certain individuals, endowed with a certain knowledge and therefore charged with a certain energy, can cross this threshold.
For you, Oh my God, I renounce the house and all my material possessions. Show me the door to heaven!
Terrible enemies, some of whom are completely invisible, will be waiting for you inside this villa.
When will my paintings see a new light, now that shrouded in mystery they are slowly disappearing? Perhaps my dwelling will become a work of art, and as in a painting it will house the viewer’s gaze and unconscious. In the end, a painting always hides a lived story.