This body made of clay, blood, memories. My mother´s body and that of my grandmother. Body eggshell, body-home, my body, yours, ours. Body that liberates, this boundary, body of lines, body-tunnel, the one made of air and fire, the body-errant, the body-resonance.
The errants continue their journey despite the obstacles they face. In each step of their journey, they rebuild their lives and transform their bodies; they adapt, they fight, they resist.
It is life itself which creates resistance, thereby enabling us to discover what our bodies are capable of.
It is a people whose country has been stolen and this scandal is not well-known in the world. The truth is that this is proof that in this world, countries can be stolen with innocence and impunity.
Para la vida miles de cantos de libertad. Para la vida miles de cantos de justicia. Para la vida miles de vidas. Para la vida dignidad.
Life is more important than art; that's what makes art important.
Artists have to be warriors. Have to have this determination and have to have the stamina to conquer not just new territory, but also to conquer himself and his weaknesses.
I have never been able to carry out any work coolly. On the contrary it is done, so to speak, with my own blood. Anyone who looks at my works must be able to sense that.
For me, sculpture is the body. My body is my sculpture.
I do not like detached creation. Neither can I conceive of the mind as detached from itself. Each of my works, each diagram of myself, each glacial flowering of my inmost soul dribbles over me.
O my body, make of me always a man who questions!