Ciudad Perdida

An almost relentless verticality governs the painting, organizing the space through a white staircase that cuts across the vast sky in a rigorous zigzag. At the summit, suspended like a chalice or a cyclopean funnel over the void, a citadel of spires, domes, and Central European stepped gables defies earthly gravity. The oil painting presents a dreamlike architecture where physical laws surrender to a purely mental logic, sustained by the stillness of a clean blue atmosphere dotted with light clouds.

The visual drama emerges from a persistent discrepancy of scale. A solitary human silhouette, reduced to minute proportions, stands ready to begin the ascent with its back to the viewer. Below, breaching the serenity of the cloud horizon, emerges a serpentine and fanged creature with mechanical or fossilized jaws lurking beside the first step. This frontal contrast between the threat inhabiting the lower strata and the ethereal refuge of the summit transforms the surface into a narrative of vulnerability, exodus, and the pursuit of sanctuary.

Mena applies the pigment with remarkable technical discipline. The skies and cumulus clouds reveal soft glazes and fluid atmospheric transitions, while the steps, cornices, and fortress towers exhibit a precise, linear definition. The almost monochrome treatment of the stone structure, rendered in gradations of whites, grays, and cool shadows, emphasizes its mirage-like nature, setting it apart from the diaphanous blue that surrounds it and the olive and dark tones of the beast below.

That towering city hints at an existential dilemma suspended in time. The promised citadel guarantees no definitive salvation: it lacks solid ground, anchored solely to a conical pillar that dissolves among the clouds, with a tiny doorway as its only entrance. It remains unresolved whether this endless ascent leads to spiritual liberation or celestial confinement, leaving the viewer before a parable of uprooting, faith, and perseverance in the face of the abyss.