Her father…
Felix Rodriguez of the Fountain.
What did he get?
The flight of the falcon. It doesn’t see borders. I am a free soul.
And his mother?
Marcelle, the character, the independence: my father organized it.
Until he crashed in Alaska.
There were tributes, public events… I put on a sad face… and felt nothing.
What was wrong with him?
My father’s death desensitized me, it disconnected me from myself, from life.
And was he able to reconnect one day?
When I was eleven, I visited my grandmother Marcelina, my father’s mother, and on her balcony I saw her dying geraniums…
Discouraged?
I took some pruning shears and cleaned them with infinite love, convinced that I would make them live.
And did they live?
they lived And I had found my intimate moment. I connected, fulfilled my mourning by filling the void with flowers.
And you flourished.
Yes, when I sank my hands into the earth.
And today he grows flowers.
I grow organic flowers.
What is an organic flower?
The flower grown without synthetic fertilizers or pesticides.
And what does this show?
They are more aromatic and asymmetrical flowers, with a very beautiful decay. They are flowers with soul. Look at these I have here… I am a slave to my naturalistic garden.
Where is your naturalistic garden?
In the vegetable garden of the river Ungria. One hectare of land with its own water and a cabin.
How did you find her?
I told my father: “Find me the place”. And I searched, I searched… and one day I saw him from the top of a hill.
A hawk’s eye.
My soul was hydrated by contemplating that oasis of greenery in the middle of the rough grain of La Alcarria.
what did you see
Solitude and centuries-old poplars, poplars and roe deer, oaks and bald eagles, wild rose bushes and snakes, walnut trees…
Nature.
A humanized nature, worked, wisely domesticated, which is my favorite. The first thing I did was produce compost to nourish the hectare well.
And then?
Mix clay soils and river sands, nourish them with humus, plow them and administer drip irrigation, by gravity from a pool of living water.
What a wonder… And nothing synthetic.
Nothing. I have disinfected my flowers with water with nettles. And I don’t understand the concept of “weeds”.
Tell me: what is a flower?
a living being
What else?
The sexual organ of a plant.
What else?
Attracts insects to pollinate.
And so plants reproduce.
That is why we owe our life to flowers.
Oh yeah?
The flower creates the plant, and the plant retains CO2 and produces the oxygen you breathe.
I already understand.
Flowers feel and communicate, even though they don’t walk or have self-awareness. And we use them in symbolic communication.
What is your favorite flower?
The dahlia the peony Perennials, combined with herbs. I like the morphology of the whole plant, its movement, its environment… I love the persicaria.
Persicaria?
Small upholstery herb, with inflorescence in clusters of fuchsia, pink, white flowers…
How is your flower garden?
English style, wild elegance. My teachers are the English.
Very much in favor
It’s the great drug, the one that gets me hooked: this wet earth shit, full of bacteria, very healthy, activates my dopamine.
What does he feel before the earth?
Belonging, rooting, recognition. One day a pink flint tip from a prehistoric spear surfaced…
Nice place, if it was inhabited before…
my place There I no longer need to prove myself or prove anything. And my flowers dialogue like in a musical score.
You radiate happiness.
I ecstasy at sunset over my flowers. The hamster wheel of my life has stopped. I know what I want… and I have it.
Say goodbye with a flower.
Leave with this tulip that is aging so organically, so sensually, so erotically, so beautifully.
