In early summer I moved my studio to the shed in my dad’s family home, in the tiny town of Anguiano, northern Spain. As much I loved NYC, living through it was a realization of how worth is for an artist to struggle in the big city.
I used to really hate this poor shepherd’s town or any other rural environment under the common assumption that the smaller the community the more alienating. I do keep that conception to a certain extent and I still don’t give much of a shit about people here but I suddenly do about this silence, this darkness and this cheapness.
I spent summer of 2017 in Skowhegan (rural Maine, USA) in a 9 weeks residency where I worked in a stop-motion film. Prior to that experience I have never given much of a thought to the fact that all my production had been a response to urban life and, subsequently, very much shaped by its specific conditions of living and production.
Here the deal is rather different because, as much as rural Maine’s white trash was totally relatable to me, the place didn’t interpellated me culturally as this one does. My dad’s family tree gets lost to records in this region and, subsequently, conquering it as a studio space appears as a turning point in my personal narrative. The sense of (non) belonging towards this peasant little town puts in perspective its traces in my bloodline and, specially, the endemic contradictions within the idea of labor and art practice.
The way I work here differs from that in the city in way which I still need to unpack and develop further but I can’t overlook how t the sense of agency is rather enhanced here. For the first time I am starting to conceive a future away for the city and, people, it feels very liberating.