Throughout my career, I have experimented with different materials and delved into various themes. Initially, my aesthetic concerns were focused on observing the body. In my early years, I developed the series "Family Portraits," where I sought to express everyday situations and moments in a frenetic manner. Subsequently, my focus shifted to the landscape, especially the horizon as an element that divides the landscape, clearly separating a material part from a divine and sublime part in relation to man and his cosmogony.
Gradually, my work turned its gaze toward political themes of national and global nature to establish a connection between the visual arts and the aesthetic phenomenon emerging from a distinctly political context. This led to the creation of the series "One Thousand Feet," where I aim to observe collectively how we trace and mark the planet's surface from the zenith, leaving evidence of our own intelligence.
Series like "Lost Cities" emerged, aiming to volumize the observed landscape using small fragments of wood—sometimes found, other times discovered in the studio as waste or remnants of other materials and works. These fragments signify the precariousness, absurdity, and limited understanding regarding the use of the environment and space. In this series, the agglomeration of small pieces ends up in large conglomerates that could well be interpreted as major capitals, simulating the metaphorical creation of enormous metropolises.
Similarly, in series like "Man Adrift" or "The Muisca Raft," I incorporate different types of roots and woods, combining them with various materials emerging from everyday life as conscious choices. These materials carry an aesthetic and particular meaning, incorporated into the work to assemble what some critics termed "Presences"—mythical beings assembled with parts and scraps brought from here and there to simulate prostheses synonymous with cultural patchworks that replace indigenous and native cultural principles.
In my series "Villa Drummond," I specifically use coal to extract the poetic image of a global phenomenon that extends like a claw over the planet, manifesting in large areas as open-pit mines. Here, we can observe large dredges, trucks, and machinery stripping the planet's skin to extract its contents. In this series, I create what I call "Large Coral Sculptures"—arched circles of coal resembling marine animals that depict the precarious health state of the planet.
In my recent years, I have focused my work on developing installations that seek to incorporate, appropriate, and modify different spaces and architectures to signify the state of global tension we find ourselves in. These immersive installations allow the viewer to immerse themselves in a kind of confrontation chamber, helping them understand and clearly distinguish a chaotic space in which we live from a desired and often utopian and unattainable virtual space.