One day, while I was having breakfast, this image suddenly popped into my head: an astronaut in that exact position, floating against an orange background. I knew I had to paint it, guided solely by intuition, and so I wouldn’t forget the vision, I made a quick sketch in my planner, which was right next to me because I always go over it in the mornings to plan my day.
 
At that moment, I didn’t have any new canvases or supports in my studio, so I took a piece from my storage that I’d started a few years ago but had never been fully satisfied with. I painted this scene over it - a scene that, for reasons I can’t quite explain now, felt urgent to me. 
 
As I was working on it, the title La Promesa (The Promise) also came to mind suddenly. As the painting came to life, I found myself immersed in the sensations, ideas, and emotions it conveyed to me. I discovered it for myself. I found in it a longing for something, I don’t know if it’s from the past or the future; I don’t know if it’s a promise of a return or of a new life, of a triumph or of a memory. But I know it contains a nostalgic hope, like the kind we feel when we assure ourselves that something will happen, even though we know it won’t.
 
Later, as I was erasing the title of the previous work from the back to write the new one, I thought that I might actually have carried that idea over. The original painting depicted two tigers facing off, and I had titled it “Podemos ser los últimos” (We may be the last). It struck me that this idea actually has a lot to do with the image of this astronaut as well. There’s a connection somewhere.
 
In any case, I never erased that first piece; I just painted over it. So those tigers still dwell on the wood beneath the astronaut, connected to him. Podemos ser los últimos and La promesa now form a single story.
 
Oil on wood panel
93x112 cm.
2026
 
This painting arrives with a certificate of authenticity signed by the artist.
 
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