Carlos Buriticá

I see art as an interior landscape, always changeable, temporary. There is something sentimental in what I do. Perhaps it is an exercise in remembrance or a gesture of surrender to that other time, to that non-place, where every image, memory or perception is an encounter with oneself. A recognition of what one loves, but also what one hates, loneliness, silence, deterioration, the human drama in general is an experience that we fear to stare at and I think that art allows us to investigate those reflections. Our agitation stems from something that is not yet complete, from the impossibility and desire of wanting to establish the ephemeral and the transitory as permanent, even knowing that linking these fragments is a useless way of justifying ourselves. I lean towards the idea of ​​thinking of art as a form of nudity. a question about brevity, finitude, and death. Eternity is still an invention of man.
The creation of something forces you to move in a continuous transition, a meditation that reveals what is left over to get a true idea. the truth understood not as splendor but as an intimate space, a way of seeing and dealing with absence. This relationship with language arises from an open question and weaves memory and aesthetic experience into a singular understanding.