Santiago Espeche

My first memory of vision, the first time I saw, is steeped in Roman frescoes and an innate concern for figures in damp stains, in the folds of clothing, or in the shapes of continents on paper maps. Whether with a lost gaze or the lens of childhood pareidolia. I spent hours deciphering the characters in the accidents of the plinths of my childhood in Rome. To that concern the wonderful daily stimulus of growing up in a giant museum city. A game of poetic interaction with the figures wherever I fixed my gaze. This followed me to all destinations. It took me years to apply it in an artistic way.
As a subtle part of the crossing between art and science, it was nice to find a new but familiar language. The plumes of smoke and ashes from fires and volcanoes, the water stains from floods, or the term Next neighbor to define the character that a pixel will have. Nothing more poetic than the neighbor. In short, scientific language uses poetic resources to define and discern in its interpretations. All very familiar.