The Sun That Fell Into the Pool and Drowned

This body of work began with a phrase I once found in a child’s drawing, cited in the studies of Antonio Machón (1998): “a sun that fell into the pool and drowned.” The sentence stayed with me as a way of thinking about drawing not as representation, but as a form of embodied thought.

Drawings often appear before language fully organizes experience. They emerge from the body as gestures that search for form. In this sense, drawing becomes less a description of the world than a way of thinking through it.

The paintings in this series follow that intuition. Each work begins with a physical gesture: a movement of the hand that leaves a trace before it becomes an image. Sometimes the gesture condenses into a recognizable form — a flower, a nest, an animal, a reclining body. At other times, it remains suspended between appearance and disappearance.

Many of the smaller works are painted on fragments of cardboard, treated almost like visual notes or archaeological remnants. These pieces function as fragments of an atlas of gestures: small attempts to capture the moment when a line begins to become a form.

Across the series, images seem to emerge from memory, dream, or instinct. Animals appear briefly and dissolve again into the surface. A flower opens and collapses. A shape gathers into a nest or disperses into a stain. Rather than fixed representations, these paintings propose forms that are still in the process of becoming.

The title suggests this fragile moment. Like the child’s sentence, the images oscillate between innocence and strangeness. They belong to a space where gesture, imagination, and perception are still inseparable.