Intuition

From all the things I learned I think it's really hard to pick one lesson that stood out to me. Rather than that, I think I unconsciously made a synthesis of every piece of advice I received, and the result was that everything turns out best when you trust your intuitions.

Art is highly intuitive, the way you feel when you are creating ends up showing in the final piece, it's the vibe you get when you look at a painting, it's the reason why you might feel nostalgic when looking at a painting of a sunset, or why a large prairie might make you feel at peace. That to me is a truly successful artwork, one that makes you feel, and like I said earlier, it doesn't have to be a positive feeling, it just has to make you feel something.
That's where the artist's intuition comes in. If you don't trust your own intuition, how is the person looking at your art piece supposed to get an idea of what it's about? It goes beyond the simple meaning, that can be explained, but if your spectator doesn't feel what you were trying to transmit as soon as they settle their eyes on your artwork, there is nothing you can do about it.
In the end, what you create is purely yours, it came from your own hands and from your own mind, it's a part of you. So, if something feels wrong, it means it should be changed because if you don't like your own artwork, no one else will. Technical skills can be learned, anyone can be proficient at drawing, but if you don't have the ability to trust your gut and instead let others decide for you, you're just drawing, not making art.

La ciudad abierta de Ritoque

On the third day of the trip, we all decided it was best to take a break and relax, so we had a day off to be tourists and explore Valparaíso and it's surroundings. Early in the morning, Antonia (our trip planner and guide) took us to Ciudad Abierta de Ritoque, which translates to "The Open City of Ritoque." Ironically, the entrance was closed with coded gates and only a few people were allowed inside at a time. Basically, Ritoque, also known as Amereida, is like a big experimentation field for architects mixed with a purely poetic conception and lifestyle. Everything there is born from some form of poetry.
Regardless of how impressive the buildings were, how exclusive it was that we actually managed to get in, or  how knowledgeable our guide seemed (the guides were college professors who lived there), the place had an odd vibe. It was empty, cold, quiet, still, it almost seem dead. Not a soul could be seen outside even though it was a beautiful sunny day. It was closed off to the world, how could it be called an open city when only 14 families lived in it and you couldn't move in unless the entire community agreed? How open can it be if the gates are locked and the code changes every day?
Along with this rises the big question, what is art? Is it a closed off city that calls itself open or relaxing at the beach with friends, like we did afterwards? Is art supposed to make you feel at home? Is art supposed to make you feel uncomfortable? Maybe art is feeling something out of the ordinary, whether it makes you feel out of place or believing life is perfect for a couple of hours.

Retrospective

I spent all of last week in Valparaíso, Chile's cultural and artistic center. I must admit that this trip wasn't my first option. Machu Picchu, where I had originally planned on going, got cancelled because not enough people signed up. At first I was dissapointed, there's no comparing Machu Picchu's historical value with Valparaíso, a city I thought I already knew. In the meetings the trip didn't seem half as exciting as my first option and I even considered changing trips, good thing I didn't.
As soon as we arrived at Valpo I understood that everything happens for a reason. Machu Picchu will be there many years from now for me to visit, but the experiences I gained from this trip I wouldn't have gained any other way or at any other time. My Week Without Walls trip was different, I wasn't there as a tourist, I was there as an artist, just like the ones we worked with, trying to make a living out of their own creativity, finding inspiration in even the smallest details, things that people don't pay attention to or would consider trash. It was this process that fascinated me, discovering how a metal rod someone threw away can flourish into something beautiful, into something worthy of admiring, how a rusted nail can turn into art.
Looking back, I'm glad Machu Picchu got cancelled, you learn most when you are wrong about something, and god was my original conception of the trip wrong. I'm glad I had the opportunity to share with amazing people, not only the artists I met there, but also the people coming with me on the trip, it wouldn't have been the same if they hadn't been there. I grew so much in just one week, I discovered new passions, friends, and lifestyles, which in the end is all that matters. The things I gained, the people I met, I wouldn't change for anything, not ever.