Mediterraneo

This painting comes from a place of warmth, salt, and memory. It’s rooted in the summers of my childhood in Port de la Selva — those days when the sea set the rhythm of life, and everything felt possible. I wanted to capture not just a landscape, but a feeling: that Mediterranean spirit Serrat sings about — blue, deep, familiar — which was also my father’s favorite song and the quiet soundtrack of everything I once was.

The central crab, drawn with bright, almost childlike strokes, symbolizes the playful freedom I felt back then, when the cold water and the rocks were my kingdom. Its vivid red echoes the intensity of those memories: sunburnt skin, laughter, endless hours jumping between boats and splashing in the cove. The orange sunburst in the corner isn’t merely a sun; it’s the explosion of life that greeted me every summer morning, reminding me that each day — like all of them — would be perfect.

Across the canvas, the layers of blue and turquoise carry the texture of the sea I grew up in — sometimes calm, sometimes wild, but always home. The marks and patterns feel like footprints in the sand, or the surface of the water when the wind rises. “MEDITERRANEO” written on the canvas is not just a reference; it’s a declaration. It names the place that held my childhood, my discoveries, and the best moments I shared with my father.

At its core, this painting is a tribute. A tribute to the coastline that shaped me, and to the man who introduced me to it. To long summer days, salty skin, and the quiet happiness of growing up by the sea. And to that Serrat song that expresses it better than I ever could: that the Mediterranean is not just a sea, but a belonging.