Beyond the Water: Capturing the Land That Imprinted on Me

The land is often shaped by water. And wind moves the water. And of course, people are connected to it, too.

For years, I’ve painted the underwater world—the way it moves, transforms, and tells stories beneath the surface. But on my recent trip to the Philippines, something unexpected imprinted on me. Not just the ocean, but the land itself. The trees bending with the wind coming off the water just 200 yards away. The hollow knocking of bamboo trunks. The sun washing out the flooded rice fields, turning them into mirrors of sky. I couldn’t stop thinking about it—I wanted to capture it.

Exploring my dad's land and owned by generations of Marquez

I left when I was three and grew up in Canada as a proud and happy Canadian, so I didn’t expect to feel such a deep pull when I walked through my family’s land on this recent trip to the Philippines in January 2025. But there it was. Something familiar, even though I hadn’t lived it. And maybe, in some way, I always have.

When I was a kid, I had a recurring dream. It wasn’t just something that happened once, but something that kept coming back over and over. In the dream, I was swimming with a school of jackfish, and it felt like we knew each other—like they were circling me and bumping me playfully, as if we were old friends.

Fast forward to 2008, when I first visited Palawan. That trip ended up being a turning point. I was standing on a dock, about to get on a boat, when I saw fish moving in the shallow water below—circling in that same familiar pattern. And in that moment, the memory of that childhood dream came rushing back. It was like the dream had found its way into real life. That experience sparked my interest in scuba diving, and I tried it for the very first time there in Palawan. From then on, I was hooked. The underwater world became a part of me, influencing my art in ways I never imagined.

It was wild to see things that felt so familiar, yet new at the same time. Coconut palms, bamboo, rice fields—they were all things I’d seen in other places, but here, they felt different. The sound of the wind passing through the palms, the way the bamboo trunks would knock together—it was like I was noticing it for the first time. The shadows they cast on the land, the way the light danced over the rice fields... it was something that stuck with me. That’s what I want to capture in my work—the moments that make us stop and take it all in with fresh eyes.

The road to my dad's land

The family rice fields

Now, these experiences are taking shape in my studio, as I work on a series of paintings that reflect the beauty and tranquility of this land. These pieces are in various stages of completion, each one evolving in response to the memories and feelings I carry with me. The process has been both meditative and exhilarating, as I explore how these landscapes can be represented in my artwork.

The underpaintings of three works in progress, all inspired by seeing my family's ancestral land.

The paintings range in tone and mood, from the patterns of rice fields to the dense fronds of palm trees under the sun. As I continue to bring these visions to life, I’m reminded that both land and water—though different in many ways—share a profound connection. They sustain us, nourish us, and provide endless inspiration.

Stay tuned for updates as these paintings come to life, and I can’t wait to share more with you soon.