Thursday, November 21, 2013

Through Surreality

The privilege of traveling has also given me an interesting side-gift: It has given my father the opportunity to transmit to me his love for art through hours roaming the curios of museums. (Honestly, I really doubt my siblings share the love.)

And I have been unfaithful! Because, even if the Impressionists were always owners of my love, and I would spend far more apprehending and dreaming with a painting by Degas, by Monet (who always was my favorite of favorites), and by Rembrandt than anything else, a gradual change has been taking place ever since I saw Dali's Last Supper back in May.

Now I wish I could spend more time sleeping just for the sake of dreaming! (The subconscious, the ego, the superego, the id... I wish I could live in dreamland all the time, to be fully concious of the magic that I am sure exists within every one of us.)

Surrealism.

My favorite by far is Joan Miró:

Everything I love about Joan Miró. Playful, alive, and yet transmitting so much. I believe that. what Surrealism' s worth in "idealistic" views, Miró portrayed the best.
To learn more about Joan Miró, check out this wonderful Arsty page. Artsy is a website dedicated to make the world's art accessible to everyone, a mission that I totally dig.



I have already talked about my love for Salvador Dalí:



Another beloved favorite, René Magritte:


And last but not least, Friducha:

Although Frida herself at some point denied her belonging to the Surrealist movement, this was not a completely valid statement; she did in fact, participate within much of Surrealism's circles, and was very probably influenced by it. However, I think she was right; I wouldn't call her a Surrealist either, but rather, something much more latino: Magical Realist. Although Magical Realism is generally applied to literature, why not extend the border to painting?


Let's go dream, shall we?


PS. I've always wanted to be a gifted visual artist. Even if it might be too late to discover this gift, it is never too late to become a muse, ain't it?

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