‘We shall meet to-night, thank Heaven. Thank Heaven, I need not be alone. Wes hall dine together. Wes hall say Good-bye to Percival, WHO GOES TO India. The hour is still distant, but I feel already those harbingers, those outriders, figures of one´s Friends in absence.’

The Waves

 

 

 

From what I have lived 

Self-esteem, like blood sugar, must flctuate between two levels. Below the mínimum you don´t want yourself; if you exceed the máximum you don´t want whoever is beside you.

A very high amount of self-esteem puts the relationship with the other at risk.

From my Borstal

LDR

 

     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

 

    

 

The Proposal

     Dear Fran,

     I have received a proposal to do a series of paintings dedicated to the Carmona Necropolis. What do you think?

 

   ‘I cut the tree from the Wall’

   Dear Fran,

   These lines make up an obituary dedicated to an old tree.

 

      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