Arturo Pérez-Reverte Foreword to the Exhibition catalogue Iberian and the sea.

The Woman and the Sea.  The Mediterranean that from some long ago hosts near its  seashore to Marisa Peaguda and its splendid work with its red wine and oil sunsets and its expanse of blue sprinkled of white sailings…

Its been a while that I know  the effort, the constant and persistent dedication, the care that those skilful and perceptive hands, tender like its  artisan and artist look ould the clay to create real material and her dreams translated to the plastic language of beauty. 

I ignore which the feminine feelings will be when she faces her work; but a male audience -at least this is my case-feels the far away rumour of Ullises blood, the never  ending  ways, bating in her veins and in her genetic memory when it stops before those boats which sails fill the east wind , the dolphins that jump along the black eye painted at the bow of the ships( naves) of the old exhausted heroes, the sea horses that look like they are smiling among the lights and colours that are the exact spoonerism of colour and light  that generously nest  in the delicate spirit that moves the hands that created them.

In that Boat made of form and dressed of beautiful colour they are also moulded All the women – the woman –  with the seaweed hair like evil and delicious traps  of olive branches and blooming almond trees;  Winged women, harpist women, women with book, women that look and say nothing observing the immutable centuries passing by wrapped in baroque  vestments of fascinating  symbols and colours. Greek women that weave and unweave in silence the destiny of the men thrown to the shore laps. 

This is how I see Marisa Peaguda and her work. Her shape and bright colours, so similar to  the kind heart where they are coming from.  And it is only right to leave it written.

Arturo Pérez-Reverte
Foreword to the Exhibition catalogue