"It takes a lot of forgetting to paint this way.
Learning to look at objects as thresholds
between fire and seed
until the light turns into a child that peeps out"

Santiago Espinosa

In A Splash of Joy, I celebrate a moment of pure joy: a golden path boldly
carves its way through a vibrant sea of deep blue and fresh green. To me,
this canvas captures the instant when joy bursts into everyday life—like a
warm ray of sunlight touching the heart. I invite you to awaken this radiant
spark within yourself.

Original abstract triptych painting on paper, featuring a play of colors
and nuances between blue, green, red, yellow, and a balance of warm
and cold tones.

I love painting on paper and working with different materials.
In these pictures, I wanted to capture the beginning of an inner process.

Original abstract diptych in modern, vivid colors of blue, red, and yellow.
These paintings are held in bright, lively tones, making them perfectly
suited for vibrant, innovative spaces where they can generate
positive energy.

In my "Transparency series," I weave together gentle geometric shapes and grids with the free flow of watery blue tones. For me, these layered paintings on paper are like looking through windows of time, where thoughts and emotions softly overlap. With every brushstroke, I invite you to discover the hidden, poetic layers of our inner world.

In this Blue Series, I explore the dialogue between spontaneity and intention. Beginning with the unique imprint of a monotype, I continued each composition with vibrant acrylics and deep ink. For me, these works evoke a dance of light and shadow, where warm yellows illuminate expanses of cool blue. I invite you to discover the rhythm of the forms, symbols, and pathways that unfold within them.

Between orange and fire, a yellow form insists on staying.

I did not plan it — it appeared, the way memory appears: sudden, warm, slightly out of place.

This is the bridge: not the one you cross, but the one that crosses you.

The lines are not drawing. They are listening.

Every transient passes through — but something always stays behind.

A vessel. A sphere. A form that opens without revealing.

I painted this blue the way a city looks from a train window:
familiar, unreachable, already gone.

The circle does not close — it breathes.

Layer by layer, pink into yellow into red, until the center holds something
too small and too essential to name.

A mandala is not drawn. It is remembered.

I printed this as one — then cut it into three, because some things only
reveal themselves when they are taken apart.

The panels can be arranged and rearranged: there is no wrong order,
only different conversations.

This is not a triptych. It is a single breath, interrupted.