Carlos Salas

Geometry that has become sensitive. There where also very clear drivers in yellow rectangles guide the eye, in the middle of that passionate conflagration. Intelletto d’amore calls its purpose. There, where order marks the cartography of nothingness and feeling tries to escape towards a tactile enjoyment at times, anguished at others. Already Michel Semphor, when speaking of “the notion of architecture in contemporary painting” explained it well: the reduction to the essential, the stripping that can be limited to a vertical and a horizontal, become in the end a sign that condenses a sum of ideas”. The barrier can be a bridge, the link, the reserve, because ultimately “architecture does not suppress lyricism but channels and fortifies it”.

But this architecture of vision does not eliminate apparent surfaces of objects, but sinks into the caverns of the self, into the real mental exercises of an abstract painting where the artist, like an archaeologist, discovers deeper strata, thanks to the brush and the palette knife. Through the challenge of remaking, a thousand times, the apparent finished painting. Postmortem painting, where rusty reds and underwater greens rescue the energy, but at the same time end up remaining analytical reflection, rationality that seeks to structure the chaos where thought is not alien to the stain found in a random search. Painting, then, of fugues and textures, of musical discoveries, but always has behind it an idea that governs it. She can appeal to ambiguity, but also to the shrewd observation once made by Edgar Degas:

“Painting a picture is like committing a murder; it is necessary to have all the alibis planned.”