María Molina Peiró
Archive of daily gestures

First gesture: In the mornings I usually wake up a little down. So around the bed I usually put objects that bring back good memories.

Like the photo of my son Jan. I didn't meet my father and I never wanted to have children, but life surprises you. I also have the picture of Justine and the little sign she put on her door when she didn't want to be disturbed. Remembering her puts me in a good mood.

Second gesture: I immediately make the bed.

The action lifts my spirits. I like to make my bed. Mine. I have a LAT "Leaving apart together" relationship.

All my women have been the same. Amazing, strong, smart, intelligent, very talented, but unbearable, like my mother.

Third gesture: every morning I grind oatmeal and eat it for breakfast.

I like to eat living things. I also had two long relationships with men. But without sex. I loved them deeply. They were sensitive beings. But unfortunately I am not gay.

They both later committed suicide. One, after arriving from Vietnam as a volunteer, the other was from an English high society family, he was so tortured by his condition.

Fourth gesture: I burn eucalyptus to clean my lungs and disinfect the air.

I learned this when I lived in Spain with Marieta. Marieta was a very important woman for me.

Fifth gesture: I feed Max.

...but then I met Esther in Paris and fell madly in love with her.

Sixth gesture: I get to my studio.

I need solitude. Humanity is a pain in the ass, "You have to love everyone!", Fuck yourself!

Seventh gesture: As soon as I arrive I make myself a cocoa.

But I love people, I need to love and be loved. My mother never knew how to love me like a son. "I was the most handsome, the most intelligent..." I entertained her. I was his jester.

Eighth gesture: I start working.

You know. When I was a baby, my father wanted to take me with him to Mexico, but without my mother. She went crazy and kept me hidden for a year and a half. A year and a half hiding as a baby. That's how it all started.


Is that okay, Maria?