Moncho works entirely freehand. No sketch. No ruler. No plan.
Each painting begins with a background color -- usually red -- and then the work reveals itself one brushstroke at a time. Triangles emerge first, growing or shrinking as the painting demands. Then half circles. Then lines along the edges. Each mark leads to the next without premeditation. As he describes it: "Each brushstroke takes me to the next brushstroke. I don't think about the colors. I just feel the colors. It's more about feeling than thinking."
This commitment to freehand work is not a stylistic choice -- it is a philosophical one. Every mark is permanent. Every decision lives alongside every decision that came before it. The result is a surface that records not just an image but a sustained act of trust between the painter and the painting.
What appears as geometric precision is in fact something closer to controlled surrender. The lines are not perfect. The forms are not exact. But from a distance the eye perceives something that feels inevitable -- what Moncho calls "the perception of perfection rather than actual perfection."
When a painting is finished, he rotates it. New figures emerge. New relationships between forms appear. The subconscious of the viewer is activated the same way his is during the making -- the mind searching for figures, for meaning, for itself inside the work.