Although Francisco was born in Monguí, his life has unfolded in Chiquinquirá for nearly 35 years. As a child, he recalls spending time in Sogamoso, Saboyá, and Villa de Leyva, since his father, Luis Rincón, worked in construction—in fact, he remembers his father working with clay, making handmade bricks at his grandfather’s chircal—and would go wherever there was work. Eventually, his mother said “no more,” and there in Chiquinquirá, they settled and took root. He says there isn’t really an artisan tradition in his family, but he does highlight that, on his mother’s side, there were some artistic and manual interests. He recalls his maternal uncles—Guillermo, Carlos, and Jorge—working with wood and seeds, like peach pits and pine nuts. They also used to hand-stitch soccer balls with his mother, while other siblings worked with clay. They would load their handmade goods onto a donkey and head down to town to sell them. They also crafted little figures from any seed they could find. Perhaps that’s why the love for small animals stayed in his DNA—even in the textures of pinecones. He especially loves imagining insects.

Before diving into his craft, Francisco confides that he lived a different life. He studied for several years to become a priest before giving up clerical life in 2007. Reflecting on this period, he feels that monastic life provided him with peace, discipline, silence, and focus. However, it also became clear to him that his decision to pursue the priesthood was more about fulfilling his family’s desire to have a religious member than about truly feeling called to it himself. Instead, he discovered his calling in craftsmanship.

When I ask him about the insects he carves, he suggests that it’s probably because they are winged and can fly, symbolizing freedom. Like these insects, Francisco feels his thoughts take flight. Through his carvings of bees, dragonflies, butterflies, and beetles, he has managed to express this desire with his hands. In fact, he named his workshop after the Dynastes Hercules beetle, which means “lord” or “king” in Latin. He knows that his manual skills, honed through years of practice and experience, have been perfected over time, and he can’t imagine doing anything other than striving to make his carvings works of art. He dreams of reaching such a level of beauty.

He works with his mother and his wife. Each of them paints and polishes what he creates with his machete and scalpel. He mentions that he never learned to use gouges but, through habit, has managed to achieve similar results with the tools driven by his creative impulse. Additionally, his studies have led to the development of forty types of butterflies in his workshop, including the “Eva,” which he invented as a tribute to the imaginative journey that gave him the freedom he sought as a young man and found in pine and urapán wood.