Despite the first involuntary and evocative thrust with which we approach the painting, thinking about it as a wild or holiday place, a little later we confirm our suspicions that, in fact, it seems to be the imitation of an oasis, or a theme park, rather than of something natural. No such smell exists in vegetation, aside from that of false plastic. A more misleading and plasticised aroma begins to envelop us, another more disturbing and impenetrable sensation becomes overpowering, as if the sense of smell bounced fruitlessly against the hermetic nature of this polished and bright painting that cannot be pierced by any of the senses, as if the only fragrance we could perceive was that of the bottle of a vacuum-packed perfume.
Rubén Guerrero
