Humberto Jaimes Sánchez, mountaineer, old child who ran hills in fog, has the virtue of inner magic, lyrical imagination, and so, when they want to perceive him, it is as if he feel they want to seize him. Submerged in the background, it is the depth of the painter, his profundity fresh, lively, like a very clear but at the same time, underground river. And he does not want, therefore, to be specified, to be led to a direct, precise clarity. Not that he loves inaccuracy, the undefined. Is not that.
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