Sorolla painted a Mediterranean of lapping waves, of gentle breezes, of exquisite women with their dresses fluttering in the wind, of children playing on a sandy shore by pristine waters, of humble people at work, of parties in the streets. Landscapes where beauty, serenity and joy are woven together naturally in a way we seem to have lost.

His masterly gaze on this Mediterranean has always fascinated me, and continues to do so, though it pains me to see how we have been able (or how some of us have been able) to destroy a type of beauty and ecological heritage that will be almost impossible to recover.

Luckily, there are still small paradises sheltered from speculation and the wounds of cranes and construction. Spaces where you feel like you’re going back in time, and can imagine the painter Sorolla looking out over the landscape, wanting to capture it on his canvas. And when that happens, I feel overwhelmed by joy, and also by the fear that human stupidity will once again lay waste, as it habitually does, to the rare spaces of paradise that still remain.

Now, as someone said to me, the question is no longer only “What kind of world will we leave our children?”. It is also, and more pertinently, “What kind of children will we leave our world?”. Let us hope they’ll be able to conserve, and eventually, to restore, everything the golem who lives among us has destroyed. Meanwhile, let all of us make sure he or she takes care of the Earth we’ve inherited, as the most sacred thing we have – because that’s what it is.

Hugs and kisses,


Alex Rovira