Alejandra Miranda, Arte, Immagine & Poesia

“FIRE’S ITINERARY”, Alejandra Miranda’s exhibition, Art Museum of La Paz (Entre Ríos) Argentina (April-May 2019)


They haven’t gone

Mixed tecnique on canvas, 50 x40 cm, 2019

Alejandra Miranda


In this series of art works I had the need to return to abstraction, to “empty” myself in familiar ways to explore the invisible world of my ancestors. To cross the contours of what surrounds us, to connect with the delicate lines of light in continuous movement that I see since I was small when I unfocused my gaze, and that unite everything that exists.

First, I draw them with a black pencil on the surface, creating a frame from which I incorporate, scrape, dissolve, mix, cover the matter. Gradually the planes, the strokes and the words appear until they reach a significant internal meaning. I combine acrylic and oil with industrial paints. I use achromatics, gold, silver and very austerely, sometimes, primary colors. During the creative process I like to work the matter with intensity until I feel its transmutation.

Although my work is abstract it is intimately linked to the natural world at a level below the molecular, which I approach from intuition. The earth, the feminine, the word, the gesture and the “magic” of making visible what is not yet, are the themes that always accompanied me, and also do it on this return trip that began with this poetry.

Alejandra Miranda (ARGENTINA)


The fire’s itinerary

“To my elders who follow in my flesh darkly”

A line, meandering and powerful

heads down to the deep past

to the time and place

where I ran, I killed and

I devoured to survive.

Where fire was a refuge;

and love, an instinct

and dawn, bewilderment.

Behind the wind I will leave,

and I will shout their names.

They haven’t gone, listen.

They are present

in the breeze that makes us shudder,

in the unexpected crackling of the fire,

in the ever changing clouds,

in the flowing water,

in the gentle strokes of the moon,

in a ray of sunlight,

in my children’s eyes,

in my grandchildren’s smile,

in my hands.

Time’s memory is made of

bones and ashes, of turns

and stars.

A thread of sand flows subtly,

guiding my soul toward the light.

Alejandra Miranda (2018)