Susana Blasco

In Susana Blasco’s hands, cutting becomes a way of joining things together. Her series transforms flowers into mosaics built from thin strips of paper, patiently woven until image and texture blur together. Geometry meets instinct here, and what we finally see depends as much on perception as on memory. Blasco’s practice lives between two temperaments: the precision of design and the warmth of remembrance. She dissects and rebuilds her images until they feel both tender and methodical, like structures made of air. The pieces speak quietly about how memory insists on order, and how emotion finds its own symmetry. In these works, flowers are no longer decoration or symbol—they become acts of endurance. Each one appears through repetition, through the steady rhythm of a hand aligning fragments into coherence. They don’t bloom in the usual way; they surface slowly, woven from patience, loss, and the soft persistence of time.