My creative process follows a subtle dialogue between inspiration and the nature of the work material.
Each wood has a different cellular structure, and each piece has a unique arrangement of knots and grain. Some woods give great freedom to be carved. Others require not straying just from the mode of growth of the tree from which they come. Some slender shapes require an oily wood, such as Burmese teak. Others ask for the expressiveness of the veins of the olive tree, the diamond-shaped texture of an oak, or the color of lemongrass, redwood or ipe.
Many moments of inspiration come to me in the middle of nature, walking alone through the mountain. Some logs that I find along the way suggest a certain shape to me. On other occasions, I have imagined the shape, waiting for a piece of wood capable of housing it.
In both cases, when I start to carve a piece of wood, the shape I have in my head is altered by the internal structure of the piece, invisible from the outside. The wood asks me and I am modifying any previous idea to adapt to it.
While carving I like to think that something similar happens when a person attracts you and you start to know them. Its external appearance is the first thing that inspires you, but its presence changes as you discover the mysteries of its interior.