It was not that long ago, around 75 years ago, when the Argentinian poet J.L. Borges wrote “The Aleph”, a short story that quickly became a mind-bending reference in contemporary literature.

In London -between 1790 and 1793- William Blake and his wife produced one strange book, a publication vastly ahead of it’s time; it was a mix of poetry and illustrations titled “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell”. This truly sensible symbol of iconoclasm was written to challenge -without the slightest hesitation- the traditional theological moral structures depicted by Emanuel Swedenborg 30 years before, in his book called “Heaven and Hell”.

What? Photonic Interplays? – asked Eduardo.

Yes – I replied as we both rushed inside the bar.

Truth is, Hispanic immigrants in Montreal don’t casually shoot the breeze in winter. We prudently keep our distance, oblivious to the outdoor pleasures the charming locals are so fond of.

In Morocco, the majestic Atlas Mountains run pretty much from South to North splitting the country in two beautiful landscapes.

To the west of the Atlas, we find the coast of the Atlantic and the big cities, while on the Eastern side the mysterious Sahara begins.

And it is precisely in the High Atlas Mountains where the Draa river, Morocco’s longest one, begins its quiet descent into the Eastern flank.

A sales meeting gone beautifully crazy…

A couple of days ago I met this eccentric couple interested in a custom light-sculpture for their place in Lima.

We were having coffee in their living room, discussing how their 24-year loving-union could be celebrated with the magical dance between light & shadows.

My grandfather thought me how to play chess many years ago, back in a day when I wore shorts by default. Every other Saturday -right after breakfast- we would hide in his home office, sit down and play chess. Those Saturdays we talked about everything; history, grammar, football…

In an era were the tables are rapidly turning and written language is incrementally persuaded to follow its fully grown and pragmatic child -the spoken, the verbal language- some of us find ourselves either endorsing this change as Darwinian and necessary while at the other end, some of us can help it but defend the value of the already Established and its endurance.

I sold my first light sculpture back in 2016. I remember I was playing bowling one night and got a ping on my cell. How can I forget that moment.

I still talk to that gent. We’re sort of pen-pals now. We talk about important stuff. He advises me. I hear him out.

“Nikolai Gogol published my fondest novel back in 1835.

I read it 30+ years ago -as a young child- without a clue that it would bounce in my head for what it is now obvious, a whole life.

I walked. And my heart begun to pound.

Everything zeroing into the moment.

Past, future… and every possible permutation, softly dissipating.

It was a duel, as I solemnly turned my back and walked the agreed upon twenty steps.

And this you can’t deny

a day will soon come

when your son will stand up

He will gather courage

look into your eye and timidly ask…

Between the endless skies

and the fire of the Earth

at the birth of time and space

life begins to shine.

For someone who understands and often employs words for what they are -the deadliest most invincible daggers- it is at these times when I can’t do nothing but humbly surrender them to the unquestionable rule of the unspoken.

L2M’s Light Sculptures are if anything (and quite unbelievably),vehicles of pragmatic communication… immediate reaction:

What?

How could a piece of art -an abstract one nonetheless- be remotely pragmatic?

This should be categorized as either an oxymoron or just plain ignorance.

We both knew

It was our last time

Our very last sentence

our final good by

What do we need

to bend the Horizon

to our singular will?

It all begun

with a loss

one beyond

every possible thought

Where lives the shadow

if not

between the light and you

American native and commonly known as the Black Walnut tree, it never ceases to amaze me.

When in a forest, surrounded by other trees, they will grow straight and tall with few lower branches.

When alone in the open, the Black Walnut will branch out closer to the ground and spread.