Fat Rabbit VIII
The Fat Rabbit Series
€165.00
Watercolor on paper.
23 W x 30.5 H cm.
Signed..
This watercolor belongs to The Fat Rabbit series and takes the warren as its whole architecture. The rabbit is not sitting in the garden by the M-30. It is running. The tunnels it runs through were not opened this morning. They were designed, enlarged and inherited—dug by the animal, by its parents, by its grandparents, a civic work without a committee, a city without a ribbon-cutting. Over generations the same problem has been solved in the same soil: how to go on living under a world that is louder, heavier and more convinced of its own importance than a rabbit will ever be. The painting treats that inheritance as a game. Funny. Ridiculous. A comparison in which human life does not come out ahead.
The sheet is a web. Curves overlap like chambers. Vertical stains fall through the colour like shafts of light, or like rain finding the holes, or like the drips of a construction that was never meant to look finished. Greens occupy the edges—garden, grass, the roof of the world as the rabbit knows it. Blues and greys lock in the centre, a cooler geometry, the tunnels themselves. A flush of pink and a stain of earth appear where the system meets something warmer, something accidental. Nothing is a corridor in the human sense. Everything is a continuation. You can enter anywhere and you will still be in the same idea.
What the rabbits have built is absurd only if you insist on our kind of plan. Their design has no façade. It has no ring road and no ministry. It has generations of the same gesture: push the earth, keep the run clear, teach the young the turns. The fat rabbit of the series is comic because it is well fed in a landscape of haste. Here the comedy deepens. The tunnels are a masterpiece of use and a parody of monument. Men pour concrete, name avenues, trap themselves in circuits they advertise as freedom. The rabbit, without a speech, occupies a network that actually leads somewhere—to food, to the other side of the noise, to another morning. The ridiculousness is not the animal’s. It is the comparison.
The style stays ludic on purpose. These shapes have the pleasure of stained glass and the slack of a doodle. A lobe of blue is a chamber and a belly. A crossing of lines is a junction and a joke about junctions. Vertical drips refuse to be tidy; they are the weather inside the architecture, the reminder that a warren is not a drawing. Human life, set beside this, looks over-explained. We inherit systems we did not dig and call them destiny. The rabbit inherits a hole and improves it. The painting does not sermonise. It lets the two constructions occupy one surface and leaves the viewer to notice which one looks more like a trap.
Light is the paper showing through the panes. The coarse tooth stays inside the pale greys and along the reserved edges, so white is not emptiness but the air in the tunnel, the flash when the animal turns a corner. Pure pigment, transparent and uncorrected, builds the warren without outlining a single rabbit. Greens granulate into the grain; blues sit in fuller bodies; the pink is thin, almost a blush on the earth. Darker veins hold the structure, wetter, more calligraphic, the walls that have been licked into place by time. Each stroke is a declaration of matter. There is no later adjustment, no legend that says “exit.”
Texture is what makes the generations visible. You see the weave in every compartment, as you would see soil in a real run. Overlapping washes are the years: one colour laid over another, a parent’s turn still present under a child’s. Accident—the drip, the bleed, the uneven meeting of green and grey—is the history that no surveyor recorded. A game, yes. Also a record of work.
The fat rabbit running through this is the same creature that lives in the gardens against the highway: wildlife in the city’s absurdity, appetite inside a system. The tunnels add time. Not one life, but a line of lives that never needed to justify the digging. What the watercolor offers is that line stated as a coloured web: funny, slightly ceremonial, and quietly unflattering to the species that builds flyovers and then sits in them. No animal is drawn. The running is the network. The comparison is the point.
info@fgoria.com
Madrid, Spain
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© 2026 Francisco García Oria —Artist.
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Matter - Texture - Time
Francisco García Oria is a contemporary Spanish artist and studio painter working in original watercolor on paper. His site, fgoria.com, presents a focused body of contemporary painting devoted to captured movement, pigment, texture, atmosphere and visual weight. He is a living artist making unique works on paper: not reproductions, not mass editions, but original watercolors in which transparent color meets the coarse grain of the sheet. The work is contemporary art grounded in material practice. García Oria does not paint to fill empty space. He constructs atmosphere. He builds visual weight. Each stroke is a physical declaration of pigment, made without correction and without artifice. The painting’s truth is its matter: the instant of movement held against the solid application of pure color. Collectors, architects, interior designers and first-time buyers encounter a consistent language of abstract watercolor, fluid washes, granulation, paper tooth and light. Technique is inseparable from meaning. In these original watercolor paintings, vibrant transparent pigment sinks into the ordered weave of the paper. Washes pool in the hollows and granulate on the ridges. Light is caught and scattered as water is caught and scattered over stone. The living texture of color—relief, depth, luminosity—is the subject as much as any place. This is fine art on paper: watercolor technique, wet-into-wet and controlled pooling, contrast between fluidity and the stable grain of the support. The result is a tactile painting, a work you read with the eye as surface, not only as image. The recent series give that research a geography of water. The Fuente del Berro Series (2026) follows the spring, the winding ría and the cascade that feeds the ponds in Madrid. Abstract washes in a poetical structure trace flow and reflection. Ducks rest on still surfaces; birds gather at the edges. Vegetation is withheld. Only current, light and the life sheltered by water remain. The series is contemporary landscape without conventional landscape: urban water, Madrid park, spring and pond as atmosphere rather than postcard view. The Aranjuez Series (2026) follows the Tagus as it islands the land and the liquid architecture of the gardens: fountains of Hercules, Nereids and Narcissus, spray, reflection and silence. Myth dissolves into water. Again there is no foliage—only current and light. Aranjuez, royal gardens, river and fountain become a structure of washes, a contemporary meditation on historic water and Spanish heritage sites without illustration. The Fontainebleau Series (2026) follows the Grand Canal, the Étang des Carpes, the spring of Belle-Eau and the cascades. Memory of a historic landscape is held in still surfaces and long gleams of water. Fontainebleau, canal, pond and cascade are treated as depth, reflection and silence. The St. James’s Series (2026) and The Fat Rabbit Series (2024–2026) continue the same inquiry into movement, atmosphere and visual weight. Others (1992–2026) gathers earlier work and shows a long studio practice: more than three decades of painting, from the early 1990s to the present. For search and for readers looking for a contemporary watercolor artist, a Spanish painter of original works on paper, or collectible studio art, the keywords that describe the practice are the practice itself: original watercolor, works on paper, pigment and texture, abstract washes, contemporary painting, captured movement, atmosphere, visual weight, Madrid, Aranjuez, Fontainebleau, studio visits, commissions, collectors and architects. The page is written so that those terms appear where they belong—in sentences about the work—not as a list. Original art on paper has a particular place for collectors. Each sheet is unique. There is no second identical wash, no reprint of the same granulation. Watercolor on paper can be a more accessible way to acquire an original painting than a large canvas, while remaining a work of considered technique and material quality. “Affordable art” here does not mean disposable decoration. It means unique works whose scale and medium can open collecting to a wider range of buyers, including new collectors, designers and those furnishing a home or project. Prices and availability are not published as a catalogue promise; they are discussed with the studio. Quality is in the materials, the consistency of the research, and the fact that the work is an original by the artist, not a poster or an open edition. Art as investment is often searched and rarely honest if it is promised. Markets change. Rankings change. No page can guarantee that a work will rise in value or that a site will sit in first position for every query about artists online. What can be said clearly is this: you are looking at original contemporary art by a living studio artist, with a coherent body of work, named series, and a practice documented from 1992 to 2026. Collecting is a decision about authorship, quality and time spent with the object. Financial outcome is not a claim of this text. Commissions and studio visits are part of the practice. The studio is open by appointment for collectors, architects and those considering special projects or available works. Inquiries go to info@fgoria.com. A visit allows the paper, the grain and the relief of pigment to be seen in person—something no reproduction fully replaces. Francisco García Oria’s paintings are contemporary watercolors of movement and water, made as unique works on paper for those who look for original art, studio painting, and a precise language of pigment, texture and atmosphere. The work is on fgoria.com.