Why realistic view painting nowadays?

 

In an age where technology allows us to capture reality in fractions of a second with a simple "click," one might wonder what the point is of dedicating ourselves today to layering color on paper to portray a landscape.

To answer this, we can draw an analogy between quartz and mechanical watches. A quartz watch is an impeccable instrument: precise, consistent, and cool. It's the equivalent of a perfect photograph: it captures the data, but not the emotion of the passage of time. A mechanical watch, on the other hand, is a living organism. It's technically less precise, but it has a beating soul made of gears, tension, and manual care. It's precisely these characteristics that make it a valuable object, coveted by those seeking something beyond mere function, like a handmade work of art.

Likewise, my research into realistic landscape painting doesn't seek to compete with the speed or resolution of a digital sensor. If photography instantly records a light beam, "hand-drawn" drawing distills a human experience.

The value of my work lies in the transition from immediate gesture to slow construction. While the photographic shot exhausts its creative effort the instant a button is pressed, each of my pencil strokes is a conscious choice, an act of resistance against the rush of the modern world. It's not just pigment that is deposited on paper, but time itself: the time of observation, of reflection, and of the hand in dialogue with the material.

In this sense, realism today is not an anachronism, but a choice of prestige. It is an invitation to rediscover a "deep vision," where the work does not simply show a place, but preserves its memory and soul through the irreplaceable human touch.

In a world that runs to the rhythm of pixels, I choose the slowness of the pencil.