This shredding already appears in earlier works. A canvas from two years before, Partido de beisbol triturado (2020), applies the same logic to a different kind of space. Here, in the garden, the effect is one of catastrophe. A slide, rendered in a gleaming blue, has swollen to the size of a monument. A horse rears up. The scale is broken. The composition is a collage of moments, atmospheres, languages, all forced to occupy the same space.
This anxiety is a far cry from the beginnings of Moreno Sánchez's leisure paintings. A small 2009 watercolor, Domingo por la tarde en el parque, shows a world of simple, bustling joy, its figures dissolving into somersaults of pure movement. The park was once a space of spontaneous freedom. By 2022, it has become a hostile place, so deeply fragmented that it looks more like the scene of an accident. The innocence of the earlier work has soured.
They are not characters in a story; they are specimens dropped in from other realities.
At the center is a slide, but also a claw, a piece of industrial machinery, a sculpture. It seems imported from the synthetic, inhuman spaces that would come to define his later paintings of monstrous bodies, like those in the series Monstruo del espacio latente. The object is an ambassador of a nature that is not natural at all.
And yet, scattered across the grass, there are oranges.