Where Earth, Light, and Memory Intertwine

A quiet tribute to childhood, simplicity, and fading afternoons

About the Painting Process

This piece is part of my ongoing collection of watercolor paintings inspired by old black-and-white photographs. While the original photo was taken in the outskirts of Málaga during the 1960s, the scene struck a deeply personal chord—it instantly brought me back to my own childhood in San Fernando (Cádiz) in the 1970s.

I remember those dusty open plazas that became our playgrounds, the way sunlight filtered through sheets drying in the breeze, and the sense of quiet freedom in wide, unpaved spaces. This painting isn’t just a visual reconstruction—it’s a bridge between generations, between lived memory and historical imagery.

Unlike my previous work, “Palm Sunday in 1930s Barcelona,” which demanded great technical precision and a large format, this painting was intentionally simpler and more intuitive. My focus here wasn’t detail but atmosphere—a soft, nostalgic twilight where light and shadow blend subtly, gently, almost imperceptibly.

Materials and Technical Details

📐 Size: 30 × 40 cm
🔲 Format: Landscape
📄 Paper: Saunders Waterford, 300g, cold press (fine grain)
🎨 Watercolors: Daniel Smith and Schmincke Horadam
🖌️ Brushes: Escoda Acuario (petit gris) and Escoda Reserva (natural Kolinsky red sable)
📅 Date: July 2025
🎨 Palette:
Natural and burnt sienna, chrome orange, cobalt blue, ultramarine violet, violet, and alizarin crimson

1. Composition and Structure

The composition flows horizontally, evoking the expansive stillness of late afternoon. The figures are small and scattered—children walking, adults pausing—creating a sense of calm movement within a wide-open space.

Architectural shapes are minimal: just a few humble homes, sheds, and a railroad crossing sign. Their alignment draws the eye toward the horizon, where the light slowly fades. There’s no central monument, no dramatic gesture—just the everyday beauty of a forgotten edge of town.

2. Light and Narrative

Light is the true protagonist of this painting. It enters from the upper left, tinting the sky with gentle warmth and casting soft, elongated shadows across the ground. Unlike previous works where light cut sharply through the scene, here it whispers—its role is to suggest, not to impose.

The sun is already low. This is not the brilliance of midday or the golden hour of celebration. It’s the light of memory—the one that lingers quietly at the end of a day, at the end of a childhood, at the end of a decade.

3. Color and Atmosphere

The palette is restrained yet evocative. Warm siennas and oranges ground the image, while cooler violets and blues provide balance and emotional depth. There’s a nostalgic softness in the chromatic transitions—nothing shouts, everything breathes.

This deliberate subtlety helps recreate that blurred threshold between day and night, presence and memory. The color choices aim to evoke emotion more than realism—to make you feel the hour, rather than see it exactly.

4. Detail and Texture

This painting embraces simplicity. The textures are suggested, not rendered; the figures hinted at, not outlined. Much of the surface was painted wet-on-wet to achieve seamless transitions. Only a few dry brush touches were added to mark edges or deepen shadows.

This wasn’t a technically demanding piece in the traditional sense—but therein lies its challenge. As I worked, I reflected on how we often conflate complexity with artistic value. In truth, capturing simplicity, synthesizing a moment, and preserving its soul can be far more demanding.

5. Narrative and Reflection

This is not just a nostalgic image—it’s a meditation on artistic purpose. On how sometimes the hardest task is to do less. To resist overworking. To find the essence of a scene without drowning it in detail.

The true value of a painting doesn’t lie in its difficulty, but in its honesty. This scene, simple as it may appear, holds the weight of time, of longing, and of light that once was.

Final Thoughts

«Sunset on the Outskirts of Málaga in the 1960s» is one of my most emotionally intimate works. Not because of its size or complexity, but because it allowed me to step fully into memory and paint from within.

It’s a quiet homage to the landscapes of childhood—and to the simple, sunlit moments that shape who we are.

You can explore the rest of my watercolor collection by clicking the link below.
🔗 [View Portfolio]