Oscar Cambra

My efforts locate the expose of my own reality
interpretation. I see contrast between light and shadow, between
positive and negative, recognizing rivalry within contraries. Sometimes,
I turn on the fan. Ideas, worries, and all that I do not understand or
is not necessary to me, become loosed in the air. At the end, from the
cliff, I shoot daggers that become hidden by wind. My words are talking
though they are not talking about the same things.
Inside their ideas, rules, or even classes, I only recognize fragments
of myself, remains are pure intuition. Only if I am tired I exit from
roads. Then, painting becomes unbreathable with asses collapsing into my
deformation.

Style and technique, exhibitions: Painting,

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