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Carlomar Arcangel Daoana on Lynyrd’s paintings (3-man show at Avellana Art Gallery) |
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It is easy to connect with a portrait: the humanity is obvious, the work seems innocuous. As one looks at the gesture, the mood, the expression of the face, one may even see himself in it. A portrait signifies a deep regard of which we are, the artist's ultimate praise of himself and others.
But there are portraits, of course, that wring so much emotion from us because the expression is unbearable. Clearly, the subject wasn't portrayed in the best, possible light. Take Picasso's Weeping Woman where the subject, the master's lover by the way, is torn by so much grief her face looks shattered.
The portraits of this exhibit swing us to an examination, if not sadness. The faces that seem to try hard to look convivial and happy are betrayed by eyes on the verge of tears. Even their smile is pained.
From the titles, we know they are a family. Why, we begin to ask, are they painted individually, and not together? Clearly, the artist wasn't keen on a family portrait. He wanted to represent the desolation of each. Perhaps he wanted to abolish the familial hierarchy and ask us to give them equal attention, regardless of who they are.
One thing that binds them, aside from the singular expression, is the background that looks blurry. Is their home marked by instability? Or do they merely inhabit a dream? The answer is unclear, but we do not need to go further.
Perhaps, we can only look at the self-portrait to have all the explanations we need. The figure, against a skyscraper and limitless sky, is at the vertiginous point of achievement. He seems to be content with the world. The colors are vibrating, even exultant. By portraying a livelier state of being, the artist asserts that loneliness, though heavy, could be as transient as happiness. |
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