When I first visited the space, a lot of land in the Sonoran desert called The Island in Tucson, I barely noticed those dead trees standing there surrounded by other ones growing well. It took me several visits and hours of contemplation of the beauty of the surrounding wilderness to fully notice their presence. then came to me an instinctive conviction they were beautiful still standing there while dead. I knew I wanted to make an artwork with them, I wanted to honor them instead of erasing them.
Days later came to my mind the talk I heard from a Native about Saguaro cactuses being considered like humans. Then grew up in me a dramatic compassion for the cultural heritage the Native people have about their respect for nature and that we belong to earth and not the opposite. I felt sorry for the slaughter provoked by the white European ancestors When they colonized the lands.
The need to restore the grandeur of the trees came quickly to me but I didn't know how. I had time with me as I was going nowhere. I was settling in this land with the idea to dwell and learn about the origins of the place and its historical energy. A question about my own presence in this land and how I can coexist without lacking of respect started haunting me but I decided to trust my intuition, an intuition based on respect and compassion.
The title Revolutions That Never Happened surged in my mind then with no more thinking about it. It was it, no reason to question this creative moment.
Bright colors came to my mind because of my cultural attraction to colors and for artists who worked with colors for the sake of colors. Henri Matisse with his paper cut series and Yves Klein with his monochrome paintings and sculptures are part of my culture. The use of bright colors for paying my respect to nature arises also because I took distance with them in my paintings since years ago. it is the way I found for connecting those dispersed parts of myself. There is no better place than the desert and the Native culture surrounding me to become at last the man I have to be.