3. Sensitive Technique.
We are no longer surprised to see how everything born from the unknown and unpredictable nature of the sensitive body is ridiculed and considered backward, threatening, and unstable. In an era where the obsession with technical mastery, progress, and performance are fundamental values, the norm is imposed. Thus, we obey a mechanical way of thinking that values the virtuous composition of known practices as a reliable source of resources, generating a linear, predictable, and stressed technical culture.
Technical demonstrations are too often confused with a form of creativity in themselves, but they are often no more than a reproduction of already known processes juxtaposed in a sequence. Technique represents our "living memory," our immediate response capacity. As an indispensable part of activating our potential, it contains our ability to react, our integrated gestures, our know-how, but it doesn't transmit any inherent intention. It seems sterile to me if it is not at the service of and listening to the unknown, to an intentional gesture in dialogue with the abstract.
It's important to recognize that technique, isolated from the sensitivity that inhabits it, represents the productivist alienation also suffered by much-admired artists, who condemn themselves to producing works in service of a frantic demand—similar to the industrial one—that discards the experience of their own discovery for fear that it will disappoint all those fans who identify with someone else's art.
I place technique in the realm of intelligence, mastery, and control, without preconceived connotations, but it can also be an obstacle to the exploration of new processes, new landscapes, new imaginaries... because it is often the one that holds back the morals, norms, and values that, by perpetuating themselves, have sterilized humanity in its dialogue with the nature that inhabits us. Creativity only exists at the right moment. I don't see how "creativity" as such could exist, a creativity without a subject who experiences it. All creativity is experience, it's action, it's a state that circulates and explores its own body in dialogue with the surrounding environment, with chance.
I live creativity as one of the forms of letting go that brings us closer to a rare and necessary self-observation; a sincere and generous gesture that, upon expiration, helps and inspires.
Our sensitivity has been presented in our history as a weakness. However, it is through that state of trust in which we let ourselves fall that we learn to let go, and it is through this vulnerability that we can enter the unknown and allow ourselves to be carried away, trusting in the life that surrounds us. Creativity, as I understand it, is that very process, it is the dialogue between these two forces, technique and sensitivity, which are too often divided and considered opposites.
If I try to name the observations I have been able to make of my creative activity, I would describe creativity as making our technical knowledge available, which, by accepting them, makes certain unknown parts of ourselves interact. This action reveals our sensitivity and gives it form, it defines a material space by filling it with meaning, a lived line that, enigmatic, functions as a mirror that shows us more clearly the state of our internal world.
In this way, when I write, when I sing, dance, or paint, among so many other technical capacities that I enjoy as a human being, I feel that I push the limits of my identity further. I approach the unknown and try to observe it with greater curiosity, I translate and describe what I feel, and thus I expand my range of possibilities and my personal language.
3. Sensitive Technique.