The Horizon is the Border.
Just Before Nothingness.
There are moments when, by looking at the horizon, everything stops — expands — so that, in some way, the mind, exhausted from interpreting, can rest in pure contemplation.
In The Horizon is the Border, the sea becomes a surface for thought. Through a sequence of images taken at different times of day and from various points on the island, the photographer constructs a visual language based on color, perception, and duration. Each image is a variation on the same theme — horizon, water, light — yet none repeats.
Although the title suggests a boundary, here the horizon-border does not separate sky and sea: it unites them. It is an illusory, vibrant line that functions as a threshold. These places — clear, off-center, or diffuse — are not geographical references, but perceptual constructions. There is something of an optical illusion in them, like in Op Art or color field painting, but reinterpreted through photography and landscape.
Each image has its own tempo, its exposure speed, its internal pulse. Some are soft, barely a visual whisper; others, more graphic, trace a line of greater intensity. The result is not a visual field to “read,” but to inhabit. These images carry a calligraphic gesture, as if the sea were writing a score of time.
The contemplative dimension of the series recalls the work of Hiroshi Sugimoto — particularly his Seascapes — but here the homage shifts to the language of color. Each hue corresponds to a specific moment in Mallorca: a season, an orientation, a distinct atmosphere.
The Horizon is the Border can also be understood as a search for the unstable. A sensitive response to the landscape. As if the sea, when photographed, ceases to be just water and becomes a mental state. Color, in its subtlety, produces a hypnotic effect that invites the viewer to dwell inside the image, to surrender to it. It does not propose a geography. It proposes an experience. It does not document a place, but suggests a way of seeing: slow, sensory, essential. A sea not observed from the outside, but from within the gaze.