Day by day, we let ourselves engaged in the rush of the modern life, polishing the cage we built and filling the void with the pursuit of material wealth. We have violently distanced from nature, from every natural and primordial antidepressant. We have emptied our insides of joy, forgetting that a life shouldn’t be constant busyness and rushing, but contemplation and creation, connection with people and time for nature. I have rediscovered all this in an isolated place from Catalunya, Where the almond trees and wind mills are, where time can be counted only by the sunrise or sunset, with “clefts in the rocks where I may hide and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed”. By my latest collection, for which I have used some “souvenirs” of that place (wood parts, almonds, leafs), I wanted to share with you a small part of what this place means and bring it closer.
“Happiness ... not in another place but this place, not for another hour but this hour.”
— Walt Whitman