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“Blooming” means “florecer” in spanish. And these works “florecen” in the places where they are created, as evidence of my passage, as a material echo of what we are and what we consume. They are not born from the earth, but from waste; they sprout not with sap, but with plastics, wrappings, and fragments of a world that produces as much as it discards.
Each piece bears a code: the postal code of the place where it was made, followed by the work number. Thus, each one becomes a map, a geographical and temporal imprint. A flower that belongs not to the field or the garden, but to the human, cultural, and contaminated space we inhabit.