Burned Forest unfolds as a haunting meditation on impermanence and regeneration. A lone figure traverses a snowy landscape, their shadow stretching across the white terrain like a spectral imprint. Filmed from an aerial perspective, the camera pivots dynamically, ascending and descending to refract the scene through shifting scales. As the figure moves, the forest where they walk transforms: charred trunks dissolve into snow-dusted abstractions, the terrain morphing into an ink drawing where shadow and substance blur.

The work’s tension lies in its cyclical choreography. The camera’s rhythmic rise and fall emphasize how the human silhouette—alternately dominant and vanishing—becomes a transient mark within vast ecological time. Scorched earth gives way to tentative regrowth, yet these signs of renewal remain fragile, counterbalanced by persistent scars.

Here, the shadow is both guide and cipher. To "read" the landscape, one must attend not to the figure but to its dark imprint—the true lens through which the series unravels. As the body retreats into abstraction, the forest oscillates between documentation and allegory, its burned contours echoing the cycle of disaster and reinterpretation.

Burned Forest epitomizes Bajo el cielo cayendo’s ethos, rearticulating catastrophe as a site of perceptual reinvention. By dissolving the real into the drawn, Díaz Morales invites viewers to avert their gaze from the obvious—to trace, in the interplay of shadow and recovery, the latent contours of a world remade.