I still enjoy manipulating materials, wood, ‘objets trouvés’, carving, engraving, modeling clay (beads, medallions in brooches, pendants and necklaces. But my interest in ceramics is given more by its condition as a support that adds utility than by the laborious process of its material realization.

The pieces that I show are product, on the one hand, of that ancient fascination with Mediterranean ceramics throughout the history of art, and especially those that use chromatic austerity to enhance the writing of the brush. But my pieces are also first a direct product of a chance meeting between too many inherited objects -and thus some of dubious taste painting- that I tried to preserve in some way, take advantage of by transforming them into humble palimpsests. First, preparing them as supports and at the same time reserving lines, brushstrokes and colors of the piece itself that I like to keep intact; then, painting with calligraphy brushes, resistant porcelain painting, and finally glazed with several layers. Although I did not calculate them as pieces of kitchenware, they are fully operational as interiors have not been touched: the jugs and even the jars keep inside their original non-toxic quality of fired porcelain, so they can contain liquids.

Finally, words again in my work and, above their form, their meaning. Without more premeditation, this time, than the fury, the impotence experienced as a spectator of the events in Europe in recent years, with new wars that scandalizes the West while coexisting for decades with many others maintained over time, equally bloody and unfair, but which the media does not report on daily. Two years after starting this series, nothing has changed except for the worse. “Disarmament” is the main motto of the pieces I painted at the beginning: for many it may sound innocent, childish, just like “Social justice”, “Common good”. Though, for me Those words are not empty signifiers. In any case, I am old enough to know that “the war” for social justice is lost in advance; I know that My messages have the same reach as inside a bottle thrown into the sea and I have always assumed the futility of my job in such hard times: I simply do not know how, nor do I want to, stay apart from what surrounds me and I can only take sides with the “weapons” I have, even if they are as fragile as porcelain.