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