Migracion
23.6 x 15.7 in
Watercolor on paper
2024
Migracion (detail)
23.6 x 15.7 in
Watercolor on paper
2024
Migracion (detail)
23.6 x 15.7 in
Watercolor on paper
2024
Chicharrita de la espuma
13.8 x 9.8 in
Watercolor on paper
2023
Lluvia Emo
13.8 x 9.8 in
Watercolor on paper
2023
Brainstorm
11.8 x 7.9 in
Watercolor on paper
2023
This song goes like this BZZZZ
72.8 x 49.2 in
Watercolor on paper
2021
This song goes like this BZZZZ (detail)
72.8 x 49.2 in
Watercolor on paper
2021
Goodyear
25.2 x 16.9 in
Watercolor on paper
2021
Goodyear (detail)
25.2 x 16.9 in
Watercolor on paper
2021
Goodyear (detail)
25.2 x 16.9 in
Watercolor on paper
2021
Selfportrait
13.8 x 9.8 in
Watercolor on paper
2020
The Narcissist
26.0 x 17.3 in
Watercolor on paper
2018
The Narcissist (detail)
26.0 x 17.3 in
Watercolor on paper
2018
Alien Crew
26.0 x 17.3 in
Watercolor on paper
2017
Alien Crew (detail)
26.0 x 17.3 in
Watercolor on paper
2017
The Island
26.0 x 17.3 in
Watercolor on paper
2015
The Island (detail)
26.0 x 17.3 in
Watercolor on paper
2015
Gut Feeling
27.6 x 19.7 in
Watercolor on paper
2014
Gut Feeling (detail)
27.6 x 19.7 in
Watercolor on paper
2014
What Grows in the Cracks
Fernando Sucari’s watercolors don’t depict the world — they think it. They think it like someone listening to its disintegration, observing its mutations, dreaming it through its ruins. Each image becomes a membrane through which the living, the discarded, and the imagined seep. Wherever structure collapses, something insists on growing: branches, insects, damp bricks, thoughts torn open.
Sucari doesn’t separate what modernity tried to divide: nature and culture, body and landscape, mind and mud, memory and waste. In his work, everything coexists in a shared vibration: butterflies guarding ruins, brains that rain, frogs meditating amid debris, bubbles floating over cemeteries of meaning. There is something deeply ethical in that gesture — refusing hierarchy. Letting everything speak. Letting thought bloom even in the swamp.
His line — meticulous and delirious — weaves botany with anatomy, comics with archaeology, dream with catastrophe. In his most recent works, the inner world becomes landscape: open heads, cerebral storms, rains made of signs. Thought is no longer invisible — it becomes image. It becomes scene. It becomes a porous body.
Sucari crafts an aesthetics of interdependence — not through doctrine, but through radical attention. As if each leaf, insect, drop of water, bone, and broken word deserved care. As if painting were a way to reassemble the world after its wreck — not to restore it, but to imagine it anew, through its rubble, its leftovers, its stubborn possibilities.
Syd Krochmalny