DRAWING AS THOUGHT
We are constantly surrounded by images and symbols—they shape how we see and understand the world every day. Our minds are always at work, noticing, interpreting, and making sense of these visual cues as we think, gather information, and make decisions. This ongoing mental activity is closely tied to how we connect with others, as it influences how we speak and behave. Because drawing can bridge the gap between seeing and thinking, it becomes a vital tool for creating and sharing knowledge.
From my perspective, new ideas often begin with visual thinking. I instinctively reach for a pencil, sketching out systems, linking points, trying to grasp how meaning takes shape in these drawings. Over time, this process has grown into a complete and ever-expanding archive. But how should these visuals be interpreted, especially given their shifting roles as images, symbols, and designs? How do they shape the way we think? What kinds of stories do they tell? And when these visuals are stripped from their original context, what new possibilities do they open up? A space for thought is revealed.
TERRENO VAGO
A void unfolds: black, not as absence, but as potential. Upon it, white traces—tentative, deliberate—begin to emerge. Thin like breath, sharp like broken silence. These drawings speak in the language of thresholds, outlines without enclosure. They hover between geographies, real or imagined, floating as if suspended in a pause between names.
Terreno vago—vacant land, uncertain terrain, spaces unnamed yet not unspoken. Here, form resists completion. Lines meander like the unfinished memory of an architecture no longer rooted in place. A grammar of marks that neither map nor explain, but suggest—territories that flicker just beyond comprehension. The image is a whisper: hesitant, questioning, open.
The cognitive gesture is slow. One watches as if reading a language not yet learned, where meaning seeps sideways through symbol, sound, and gesture. These are not images to be consumed, but portals to drift within. They ask not for interpretation, but for a kind of presence—an act of dwelling within uncertainty.
The sound is spare. Air moves through old scales, scales worn down by sand and time. The voice of a string trembles, then recedes. It does not accompany the drawing; it inhabits the same void. Together, they do not construct a place but recall one. Not a homeland, but a longing. Not a story, but an atmosphere. Something elemental. A fragment of sun caught in shadow.
And what if this work resists being named? What if these drawings are not diagrams but dreams? Glyphs not for reading but for remembering. Perhaps they are remnants of an ancient interior, where thought begins before it is spoken, where territory is mental, emotional, ephemeral.
When the data—when the context—dissolves, we are left with gesture. We are left with breath. What emerges is not message but movement. A subtle choreography between eye and hand, sound and silence, black and white. The archive here is not static—it breathes, stirs, waits. What remains is action potential, the fertile ambiguity of the in-between. In terreno vago, we do not find ground—we learn to float.
EDITION
An artist-made portfolio containing 15 original drawings from the series.
A CD containing a 20 min long sound piece
An artist’s essay.
A card, signed by the artist.
Limited edition of 12.
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