(...) We see that in the shift from the photographic to the graphic mode, distinct instances of landscape can become grade, gradation: the volumetric can take flight; the paths condense into linear incisions; the descriptive becomes narrative, or, freer still, expressive; the certain of the photograph is transformed into the uncertain of the print, but also, the ambiguous scales or forms of the photographic can become new certainties in the reality of the etching. The mountainous solid lets veined, translucent zones shine through; the dark seeks to make itself light. The photographic graying of the earthen and the mineral at times becomes a more atmospheric gray in the print, but conversely, the luminous of the photograph can become darkness in etchings (as we see in the mountain ridges of photograph 3147 and lithograph 18).  We can say that photography testifies to the diurnal quality of the real, while etching approaches the nocturnal, or vice versa.

(...) Also powerful is the matter of inversion, which simultaneously produces rupture and connection. What is on the right in the photographic original becomes left in the graphic transformation (as happens to the mountains and the river in photograph 3147 and lithograph 18; or in photograph 3079 and lithograph 8, in which ambiguous formations, between fields and rocks, gaze to one side or the other). This is the particular marvel of the etcher in her studio, where she makes mirror-relations between things, playfully switching the order of things, seizing both bodies and their reflections, getting at the real through the false. This duality of vision—in which the thing is also its other—is accentuated when, as happens here in certain cases, the artist both shows the photographic original and the graphic inversion.  Two modes of being thus reveal their confrontation and at the same time their complementarity: the originary and the derived, the one facing the other as though comprehending the other, as though interrogating the other.

María Elena Ramos

August 2012