I don't start from certainty, but from the question.
I don’t have a definitive aesthetic or a truth to defend,
only a persistent need to explore,
to observe the world with other eyes
and translate that look into visual, sonorous or poetic language.
Creating is not a statement, it is a search.
Each work I attempt is a way of thinking out loud,
a pause in the noise of the world,
a way of inhabiting time with more attention.
I’m not interested in impressing, or standing out, or being fully understood.
I prefer to be honest.
I prefer to make mistakes and learn.
I prefer the process to the formula.
Art, for me, is a space of fertile doubt.
A territory where I can allow myself not to know,
where the unfinished and the uncertain have value.
I don’t seek to escape from reality.
I seek to look at it more deeply.
To find a crack in the everyday,
a texture, a story that invites me to stop.
I’m on the way, and that’s fine.
I’m in no hurry to get there.
The art that is born from me now is also a way of listening to me,
to understand who I am when I stop talking
and simply observe.
I believe in art as a conversation:
with myself, with others, with time.
And this manifesto is not a final statement,
but a first page, open,
where everything can change.
Cristina López does not come to art from the urgency to stand out, nor from the desire for recognition.
She comes from another place: that of contemplation, patience, the long silence that precedes form.
At 56, she is not looking to start a career, but to continue a dialogue.
A dialogue that she has been building, day after day, during almost a decade of study,
of constant practice,
of letting watercolour and pen become natural extensions of her gaze.
Her work has something timeless about it:
does not respond to fashions or trends,
but to a sensitivity that has been refined over time,
like someone who tends a garden without expecting applause,
just for the profound act of seeing something grow with her hands.
Cristina observes with an attention that is rarely taught.
Behind each stroke there are hours of study, yes,
but also something more difficult to define:
a way of being present,
a kind of inner listening.
Her classical art is not a repetition of the past,
but a personal re-reading:
the gesture of the pen on paper, the fluidity of watercolour,
are tools with which she builds her own gaze,
serene, but not passive.
Subtle, but not minor.
Cristina does not have a professional career,
but she has something that is sometimes lost in the urgency of exhibiting and producing:
has depth.
She has craft.
She has an intimate relationship with her process,
and it shows in every line, in every spot of colour that she leaves intentionally imperfect.
She does not come to prove anything.
She comes to share what he has been discovering.
And in this quiet honesty lies her strength.
