I install my studio on the beach: I unfold my canvas on the sand, I capture the colors around: turquoise, sunset pinks. I produce a lot of art in a few days: I participate to a show called erotica.
And I focus in transforming a chocolate box into a mystic surprise box .
Opening party: we lost all my brushes so I do body paints with souvlaki sticks. Iggy pop live on the beach. Mystical attraction to a cobra woman.
Geishas are dancing around us like st-elmos fires. I am diving inside a pyramid of gold. Time looses it s linearity. We are becoming the carnival of returning souls: a sensual tribe moving like a colorful octopus.
Art high-jacking in clubs where I paint all the virgin skins, kissing all virgin lips, climbing up the towers of decadence.
Fernando is like a bird on cocaine around me with his camera: he captures the invisible. the spirit of tacubaya is dancing closer: she inspires my brushstrokes, she resets my trip, she sets me on fire.
Surfing into the abstract , altered states of magnification. I meet an Italian woman who gave me her high eels to talk to her on the phone. She writes her phone number on my arm but I erase it a few minutes later while I dance.
Closing sunset for art basel at the free spirits; a few drummers and dancers gather around us, and I paint the van, rocinante as a live performance. I paint a cosmic orgy in red white and black
The wind is blowing so big it is hard to hold my brushes
Friends jump on the van and I cannot resist to give them a ride in south beach
--carlito:I am inside your red blanket like in a cocoon riding the highway to texas, at sunset, sensitive to the winds like if they we re your whispers,
--tacubaya:- I sense your touch writing in spiral on my skin, the secret code, the membership to initiate on the sacred path of love. As we flow through the seven seals, a new life awaited to be awakened. The arising…