Flying over the northern coast of Morocco, I carry with me the memory of a privileged aerial perspective of the land. From the low-flying helicopter, we crossed an immense stretch of land and sea, where forms and colors unfolded all around.

It wasn’t only in the transition from ocean to dunes that I found such striking contrasts—so expressive in their diversity. Beyond the buildings, the human imprint is clearly visible in the rural zones we flew over.

It begins with the soil itself. Cultivated fields, fallow land, newly tilled plots and age-old furrows create a patchwork of mosaics, occasionally cut by a road or path whose origin and destination remain unknown. I spot horses pulling carts with farmers across the fields.

But from this aerial view—however close to the ground—I am also aware of what I cannot see. One must descend to the earth.

THE PLOW´S DANCE

Some crafts remain invisible from above. We only become aware of them when we draw near and return to the horizontal scale of human sight. Within this patchwork quilt of lands shaped by machinery, stands the man. With his hands, he masters techniques passed down for generations, traditions made routine and replicated here—as well as on the other side of the Strait, in Portugal, as I mentioned in the post about José Maria Guiomar with his plow in Castro da Cola.

And also in the village of Mesquita, in Mértola, where we began filming for the exhibition Portugal Marrocos Portas do Mediterrâneo.