Artist Statement

My mother told me that, to live as an artist. one needs to have an extraordinary  amount of talent. And also that, because their lives are so visual in nature, artists’ brains atrophy over time. So I became a  neuroscientist.  

She also said that I could do ANYTHING I set my mind to. Which I think, in  retrospect, isit is a bit contradictory.  

So, with a mathematician mother and an inventoren inventor (and photographer) father, I  became a Badass Scientist. O, and over time, I collected many patents under my name  covering the drug discovery technology I created.  

But, in secret and in my free time, I never stop being an artist, pursuing  photography, sculpture, painting, and (lately) wood working. So, whenit was with delight  that I heard my good friend Marinés, a renowned artist in her own right, toldtell me that I  actually had enough talent to be a full time artist, I was delighted.t. So, And I turned into one. Although, in  secret and in my free time, I still enjoy science.  

What I did not expect was to have to explain myselfmy self. I was under the impression,  perhaps misquoting Charlie (not my uncle, rather, Bukowski), that scientists make  complex things simple and artists turn simple things complex. But not that they had  to justify their choices.  

So, should I write about my projects being a play over light’s electromagnetic and  wave-particle properties and all the phenomena expected from it? Like how  

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interference (remember the double-slit experiment?) will give you, with or without  your intent or understanding, some cool Newton’s rings if you sandwich two  negatives? Oor explain that my skyexplain my sky photos only show polarizing filter improvements when  taking the sun’s rays at a 90ish-degree angle? Oor explain that I do not worry too much  about metamerism for my toned B&W silver halide prints?  

IOr, instead, should I drop my scientist hat and wear a post-Ppost-modernist  beanie, and use sufficient anti-linear fragmentation and plenty of self-referential  quotes? Should I indeed be unreliable, intertextual, unconventionally unconventional,  choosing minute over grand narratives? Aand should I cynically question my cynicism  and use “quotidian” at least three times in a paragraph (or more)? Or should I  disjointedly talk about my cat here?  

I think not. I am not good about following rules (or recipes). I evenEven despise those  who read a manual. Moreover, having grown up under a dictatorship in Argentina, I  have little respect for authority. So I would just say that my heart warms when light  hits the right way, when lines (diagonal,s preferably) take us for a ride over an image,  when the surprise of a silky middle tone gives us awe, when the unexpected reflection  or the play of a shadowy contrast brings a smile, or when the unseen detail or other  quiet beauty brings a tiny bit of relief. I am a follower of Yūgen, a Japanese term  capturing the art of embracing a melancholic and nostalgic sense of beauty best left  to the suggestion and interpretation of the viewer’s soul.  

And, in any case, I think my mother will approve. Furthermore, I feel my brain is everbrain  ever expanding.  

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