SUNSHINE GRAY

Juan Isaac Silva's room

My room:

I measure one meter and eighty-three centimeters.

The corner of my room where I rest my dreams is lengthwise ninety centimeters longer than my height. The space gives the impression of being rectangular, therefore it's width is approximately my height. The ceiling reaches my head at two arm lengths distance.

In front of me there's a wall with two large windows, each window measures in width half my height and a height of an arm longer than half of the width. Each one of them has seven vertical bars and two horizontal ones, which divides in height into three cavities.

I go a step backwards and flop onto a navy-blue couch, where in front of me daylight is born and its light travels like a poet through all the corners of unpolluted white walls.

The couch has its back next to the wall where at my eyes height there's a hand deep cavity, fifteen hands long and seven hands high. In it, there are four paintings, two per two hands big, white-lime canvas with black strokes which express guarding eyes of the Atlantic's blue light which enters through the big windows.

Looking to my left, there's my favourite corner, an allegory of so many lost battles. Further away from the cavity with the eyes, I drag my left arm on the wall to reach another cavity transformed into shelves, which is two hands deep, its height is twice the depth and half its height in width.

Within it, there's a division of three cavities protected by two white painted wooden boards. In the lower part there are all sorts of paintbrushes in a white porcelain glass and some tubes of paint lying down lengthways. In the cavity higher up there are different sketch pads piled up randomly. In the top cavity some paintings coexist and share all the space, in line and seen in profile, where at a first the cavity seems unnoticeable.

In the central corner, we can see a sort of door and whims which feed my creative heart day by day. I still measure the corner's height, for without it I cannot construct these words. Words that describe the forms and fantasies of a room and which only through mentioning can be translated into an accurate self-portrait. The corner is continuity without even reaching it with my left arm and twisting my elbow to an apex on the anterior wall.

There's a cavity in the wall two hands deep which turns into shelves divided in two parts backed by a wooden board which supports two Andalusian flamenco percussion cajones on its lateral sides, all painted in white the same as the wall. Its height, where the two cajones are supported, we can remember as a reference to the previous shelf, but it ends in the ceiling. Visually it's the most poetic shelf in the room. For that reason the starting point of my narration is the top right side where coexist: an oxidized musical tuba, which tries to whisper light and joy to a blue crystal vase with an enlarged neck in which rest four sun flowers who dance to the tuba's light and sound. Two paintings follow, three hands in a square in size: the first one captures the image of a black French 'Flechet' hat, which itself gives the impression of shedding tears thus the paint fades away. In the second there's an image which references a palette of primary colours and it's mixes, which inclined at 120 degrees in front of the spectator gives the impression that the liquid which dissolves and mixed colours is slipping downwards, wishing to reach the lower shelf where 80 Venetian masks live together, with anxiety for colour and to reunite again with the fantasy that characterise them.

Leaving the shelves, outside them, making a corner with the right side poses a plaster made Venus of Milo goddess, half my size, she guards the history of that corner and reminds us of the parameters that need to be drawn to reach the ideal beauty. Parameters that the Venus could write, if she still had her arms intact, on the Olivetti typewriter which rests on top of a plaster column with its Doric style shaft, plinth and capital.

All the history of this corner sleeps in a medium size filing cabinet which rests in the middle of the corner, right underneath the shelves, which measures a quarter of my height and half the width.

I measure one meter and eighty-three centimeters.