Back in my childhood, when my mother owned a small piece of land, the end of the harvest season became a magical time for my brother and me. Every year, we built a little house out of scraps—old ropes, weathered cañas, whatever we could find. To us, it was more than a fragile shelter: it was a universe of inspiration, glamorous, beautiful, extraordinary. Most of all, it was joy itself, because the journey mattered as much as the house.

As the years passed, those memories stayed with me. and now…. they remind me of something profound: as children, we were fearless dreamers. Imagination made us bold and decisive in every adventure. Growing older, we often forget that sense of wonder; we no longer pause to be amazed. But the child’s mind knew no limits.

What I treasure most from those days is how life felt so green and peaceful, how nature itself seemed like the most precious dream. I can still recall the scent of wild herbs in spring, the sweetness of yellow peaches, the damp earth after rain. These memories, vivid and alive, remind me that imagination has the power to bring the past into the present—and to transform it into art.

That is why I paint the little house in the tree: as a bridge between memory and magic, so that what many of us once lived can continue to bloom on canvas.

The artwork represents the human being in its purest creative state—growing, nourished, and sustained by love—suspended between earth and sky. The little house symbolizes that intimate inner zone of inspiration, a fragile yet elevated refuge where ideas are free to bloom.

The trunk, both solid and ethereal, embodies faith: the invisible strength that sustains us even in uncertain places. From it rises a house—slightly tilted, built of wood or carved from the same branch—humble yet dignified, It’s a place where one can imagine sitting at a small table, to sit, and to contemplate the sky, the mist, the sunset, or simply peace itself.

The floating, winding stairs evoke daring: the uncertain steps we take toward dreams, decisions that shape our path, sometimes as life experiences that carry us into unknown places. Each step is both risk and revelation.

The open sky, which often appears in my work, represents possibility. The faint light at the zenith dissolves into the mist, as the branch itself disappears into the unknown reminding us that the road ahead is never completely clear, but it is always fertile and full of potential.

This work is a meditation on faith, humility, and imagination: how, with little more than wood and vision, we create spaces to dwell in wonder. See life differently—to pause, to reflect, and to dream beyond our infinite horizons.