As a watercolorist, the study of images is very particular, even today watercolor seems to be almost totally subordinated to the precious handling of a technique, whose paradoxical nature is always outside of color and "mistakes", but just like polaroid images, in my eyes, its interest lies in the imperfection that it's able to transmit and reveal, nevertheless, beauty. The images I paint evoke memories and places in my life of which I have no photographic record, but I needed them to exist to give them space in the present. When the color in a landscape is altered, does it change the way we remember it? Are errors part of memory? Can photographic memory be pictorial? Each memory has an atmosphere, and translating it from a pictorial technique as ethereal, spontaneous and unpredictable as watercolor, feels just adequate.
