Pedro Montilla

I’ve been thinking about the spaces between things.

The cracks in the ground. The line that separates the lake from the sky. The quiet stretch after an ending, before something new begins.

Often, it feels like the work happens not just in the studio, but in everything that surrounds it.Everything outside of it. When a process ends, and crumbles, it hits the ground, it is what promesses soil to the end. It’s where things fall and die — and, somehow, where they begin again.

That feels important: to let it die.

The cycle, the process, the practice.

It allows the thoughts to compost themselves.