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George O. Jackson de Llano
My studio, built from the unexpected beauty of crinkled soft plastic Spanish URSU9 water bottles on a mirror in front of an east window, becomes a stage each sunny morning. It is then that the spirits arrive, yearning to be seen and celebrated. They revel in my recognition, eager to collaborate in an exploration of light and color. Through the lens of my camera, they whisper stories of emotion and personality to those who pause to truly listen.

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These spirits, imbued with the essence of artistic masters like Alejandro Colunga and Bob Bilyeu Camblin, echo the vibrant energy of Masson, Tamayo, and countless others. Their presence, a symphony of hues, evokes the spirit of dance masks and ancient rituals, a legacy from my eleven-year immersion in the heart of Mexican indigenous festivals.
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