Ernesto Ferriol takes refuge in watercolor as a way to evoke the invisible, in my opinion he makes his own this resource of remembrance through the imprint of the erotic. By assimilating certain stereotypes that make certain contexts immediately recognizable, his discourse is susceptible to the pigeonholing of local archetypes. His scenes are direct, biting, contrary to what might underlie the proposals of his colleagues. He makes sex the most sordid expression of a pessimistic society, increasingly dehumanized, transformed into a circus of phenomena.