When I sat down to draw and paint this watercolor,
I did so thinking in a green forest and how the warm colored sheet will influence the outcome.
Then, when I left the pencil, all the green was gone in the presence of deep remembrances of the fire.
In September last year, the mountains near my city caught fire.
Not just one but dozens forest fire in almost all the territory of my state.
My parents and some of my friends live in a small village between the valleys and I was visiting them few days before the wildfires started.
It is very difficult for me to translate what those days meant to me and what I experienced (even I can hardly put into words in my mother tongue).
Good, bad, heroic and crazy things.
Dantesque landscapes, ordinary people taking mythical proportions.
Facing the power of fire, who like a ravenous dragon that crosses the hills, going down the valley, running through the grassland … claims everything.
Eight months have passed since then, and is growing again green over black.
But it seems that the baptism of fire in my eyes and my skin has left a live coal to my whole life.
A vision that changed unconsciously my innocent exercise, in testimony of what was.