A vanishing point is the point in a perspective drawing where the perspective projections of parallel lines in three-dimensional space converge. To me, embodies the point where our representation of the world dilutes and fades away.

These series is composed of paintings created after photos I took from places I visited. Places, non-places, little corners... All of them are memories that try to resist the waves of time. All the acts that create art or document reality are at the end a vain intent of grasping, holding the present but per se disappearing at the end.

In Vanishing Point, the technic of airbrush is used to enhance this blurring and bleaching of our memories, as well as the irregular gestures that suit the vanishing images. Used freehand, without masks, with the inherent imperfections of the technic, stays away from full sharpness and reflects every variation on pulse, every heartbeat of the artist.

Vanishing Point is a personal, intimate view that started when I came across a series of images —vegetal specimens taken at the Botanical Garden— taken during my mother's last visit to Berlin, when she suffered a retinal detachment and started to see everything blurred and foggy. Her disturbed vision turned everything blurred and foggy, which is how our memories inevitably vanish and fade, no matter how hard we try to retain them through representation techniques (No matter if painting or photography¹), and how quickly also the grayness can extinguish color, how it can tacitly gaslight the plain perception.

Blurriness in art has been both due to a medical issue and consciously to question our modes or perception, as a reflection of loss of certainties, present or future, and to pursue the elusive and ephemeral.

As a medical condition are remarkable the cases of Monet and Degas, both of them suffered from ocular diseases and have been well documented as abundant medical records exist.

Monet's cataracts has been widely studied², as he experimented a progressive loss of vision over the years, expressed in the loss of visual sharpness and in the inability to tell apart colors. On one side, his lines and gestures reflected this unfocused vision and gave a characteristic, almost abstract, execution on his paintings.

The color veil that the disease created made him paint by the positioning the colors in the palette, not by actually being able to address the final mix of tones, or in a very special way, and therefore achieving sometimes a vibrance that was not what a normal eye sees. After he finally agreed to be operated of cataracts, his vision partially recovered but was still impaired³, some argue that the operation cut some filters in the crystalline and allowed him to see in UV spectrum⁴, raising more questions about what the artists was perceiving, the chromatic palettes he used and how this process reaches the viewer.

In the case of Degas, researchers have shown how the inaccuracy of the drawing was growing as his retinal disease, also how this compelled him to simplify and summarize the structure of the reality, relying on wider planes and more schematic approaches.⁵My emphasis on the line is a humble tribute to Degas style in this works, as well as the blurriness of Monet’s Water Lilies.

As a resource for expression, blurriness has been used to question our modes of perception or the status and value of the image, suggesting other way of reading reality, to reflect the erosion of certainties, specially after II World War, in a vision that is both poetic and disenchanted.

“No matter what we do to define its contours, the world itself is blurry and any focus remains ephemeral.
Identity, too, is blurred, elusive, constantly changing.
Between uncertain memories of the past and uncertain futures, blurring becomes a quest for identity”.⁶