Laura and Coca Cola
It was the dogs´ fault for having met Mrs
Brenda. Or rather the fault, in truth, was an inopportune oversight on the part
of Mrs Brenda.
She had taken her pets for a walk as
usually does every day, only on this occasion and after spending a few minutes
recreating herself in the wonderful landscape offered by the waterfall on the
outskirts of the town, she forgot the dogs leash. I -like you- keep wondering
how the hell she could leave both leashes behind if that is what she is been
doing since she arrived in town four years ago. Isn´t it a gesture that becomes
automated by repeating it regularly?
The path that goes down to the Salado
stream is a delight at this time of year. The first drops of water have fallen
and the environment smells of freshly washed fennel and wet soil.
At the end of September and beginning of
October, the grouping of many speccies of birds that are going to cross the
Strait looking to spend the Winter in Africa takes place in the Iberian Península
and mainly in the south; it is the right time to observe incredible flock of
Sand Martin like the ones I saw while arriving at an abandoned quarry about two
or three kilometers from Pruna.
There was also an elegant black wheatear
nearby, which was entertained by the aerial show of its neighbors since its
task as a male committed to raising its offspring had concluded and it no
longer needed to carry more stones to its nest.
And there, she was without taking her
reyes off me.
It was a beautiful short-toed Eagle that
took advantage of the rise of hot air that collided with the rock wall and
produced a chimney effect. It was flying over my head at about fifty meters and
I was able to identify it without any problema because this lady spent a few
minutes hovering in circles with centric points without apparent effort. What a
joy to behold?
The other lady had forgotten the leashes…
And I wanted to sit for a while on one of the benches at the Cascade viewpoint
and there I found what you already know. A few days later Mrs Brenda knocked on
my door asking if I had anything that was hers.
That´s how we met.
Y. a.
Mary
Dis Manibus Sacrum
Dear Fran,
I just arrived from the Carmona Necropolis.
I have been taking some photos of those tombs where they allow you to enter, because I have in mind to make a series of paintings related to this archaeological site. At the end of the tour I also stopped at its small museum since I want to paint several still lifes with the objects that are exhibited there.
Intimacy in feminine
If you want to know me
completely, you have to know my garden, because my garden is my heart.
Hermann von Pückler-Muskau
Dear Fran,
I met Francisca not very long ago.
knowing that she had an exhibition planned,
I appeared at the Faculty of Fine Arts in Seville on the appointed day.
I have to clarify that on the afternoon of
the inauguration I was not able to fully enjoy her paintings; the number of
people in the room was such that I could not stand at the distance needed to
contemplate the images, especially the largest works.
But even so, the first thing my eyes saw
reminded me of some paintings I saw a few years ago in a book that our painting
teacher brought to class. Those images had, I don't know how to express it, a
subtle touch of Luc Tuymans. And I know I haven't been the only one who has
noticed it.
Secondly, the artist's paintings
transported me, I don't know why, to the American
Dream, to the movies of the 60s: families with their two-story houses, with
a garden, swimming pool, lawnmower and two cars in the garage. Husband who goes
to work in the city center and wife who stays doing ‘tasks typical of her sex’,
that is, cooking and taking care of the children.
And here Francisca's paintings delve into
the intimacy of these women to provide them with a way out of that golden
loneliness. It may seem silly, but one of the pieces reminded me of Mia Farrow!
Dear Fran, of all the inaugurations I have
attended – some more glamorous, others less – this has been the one that has
touched me the most. Neither short nor long, neither exultant nor bland.
Intimacy in the feminine is an
enriching experiment that we should experience more frequently. As was said in
the presentation, we should never confuse intimacy with identity, much less
with sexuality. The intimate, fortunately, embraces sexuality and identity and
makes us look inside ourselves, towards who we are.
A sincere, clean, delicate work.
Y. a.
Mary
Weekend in Pruna
What I like most about this small house is
its solarium and spending the night here for two days is the best gift they
could give me.
Godoy and his wife come here on vacation,
on weekens and when caring for their Little grandson allows.
The solarium (there are truly many hours
in which the sun is present) occupies the space that was previously the hayloft
and it´s amazing to be reading or writing, as I´m doing now, to look up and
watch a couple of vultures hover in circles above my head.
This time they wanted to go to the Algarve
and they offered me the possibility of spending a few days in the town.
Invitation that I had declined the previous times: it´s a shame that the house
is closed so you can enyoy it, they convinced me.
Yesterday, Saturday, I was wlaking with
binoculars along the Cascade path that leads to a stream that was loaded with wáter
from the mountains.
Dear Fran, you can get an idea of plants,
flowers and birds, always birds, that I could find: the blonde wheatear, the
Bonelli´s eagle, the acentor and countless trills among which I could recognize
the oriole and the nightingale, just by name the ones I hadn´t seen or head in
the longest time.
Y. a.
Mary
