Rodolfo Amejelo

As a child, I thought insects had too many eyes because they distrusted the world. Sometimes I find myself believing it again when I look at Rodolfo Amejelo’s creatures. Their beaks, seeds and displaced pupils recall the absent-minded drawings that appear in the margins of a notebook while something important is happening elsewhere. Biology calls certain organisms capable of fragmenting light polyoptic, yet no theory explains what happens when we see too much. There is something both comic and cruel in these animals, half toy and half omen. Perhaps growing up consists in discovering that multiplying the gaze does not make the world clearer, only stranger.