.jpg?w=1)
拍品专文
‘ The painting that I create is autonomous from the original image. I
place myself in front of the original image in the same way that an artist
would sit in front of a tree, a lake or a landscape. The starting point is
always the same. I could never speak to an image that I don’t love.’
– Manolo Valdés
In Manolo Valdés’ large-scale painting Lillie III, 2003, the statuesque face of a beautiful
dark-haired woman stands against a dazzling vermillion backdrop. She gazes directly out at
the viewer, meeting our gaze with a cool air of sultry detachment. Working in oil on layers of
burlap, Valdés builds his portraits from swathes of impasto paint to create richly textured and
vibrant compositions. The lavish coatings of paint over coarse material lend the appearance
of patchwork, and indeed Valdés draws from an array of sources in his expressive works.
Engaging with the great artists of the past – from Cranach to Rubens, Velázquez to Bonnard
– Valdés’ iconic artworks become imbued with a dreamlike sense of strange familiarity. In the
present work, the defined, boldly outlined and mask-like features of the female protagonist are
strongly evocative of the style of one Valdés’ most important art historical muses: Matisse.
Indeed the brazen streak of green paint which covers the woman’s right eye seems to allude
to Matisse’s ground-breaking Fauvist portrait from 1905, Madame Matisse (Green Stripe)
(National Gallery of Denmark), while her face directly echoes the subject of 1936’s The
Embroidered Dark Blouse (Woman in Red Chair) (Baltimore Museum of Art).
In Valdés’ practice dichotomies converge and converse: past meets present, figuration
collides with abstraction, and painting assumes the dense and weighty qualities of sculpture.
As the artist has explained, ‘When I touch on historical painters, I make comments based on
the specificity of my language and not on that of literature or poetry. I am just a narrator who
comments on the history of painting in various ways, using new materials: it is like a game that
consists of changing the code and the key to the artwork… Many of my colours, materials and
textures are the product of relived experiences of other masters. My painting involves much
refection’ (M. Valdés, quoted in Manolo Valdés [1981-2006], exh. cat., Museo Nacional Centro
de Arte Reina Sofía, Madrid, 2006, pp. 20-21).
place myself in front of the original image in the same way that an artist
would sit in front of a tree, a lake or a landscape. The starting point is
always the same. I could never speak to an image that I don’t love.’
– Manolo Valdés
In Manolo Valdés’ large-scale painting Lillie III, 2003, the statuesque face of a beautiful
dark-haired woman stands against a dazzling vermillion backdrop. She gazes directly out at
the viewer, meeting our gaze with a cool air of sultry detachment. Working in oil on layers of
burlap, Valdés builds his portraits from swathes of impasto paint to create richly textured and
vibrant compositions. The lavish coatings of paint over coarse material lend the appearance
of patchwork, and indeed Valdés draws from an array of sources in his expressive works.
Engaging with the great artists of the past – from Cranach to Rubens, Velázquez to Bonnard
– Valdés’ iconic artworks become imbued with a dreamlike sense of strange familiarity. In the
present work, the defined, boldly outlined and mask-like features of the female protagonist are
strongly evocative of the style of one Valdés’ most important art historical muses: Matisse.
Indeed the brazen streak of green paint which covers the woman’s right eye seems to allude
to Matisse’s ground-breaking Fauvist portrait from 1905, Madame Matisse (Green Stripe)
(National Gallery of Denmark), while her face directly echoes the subject of 1936’s The
Embroidered Dark Blouse (Woman in Red Chair) (Baltimore Museum of Art).
In Valdés’ practice dichotomies converge and converse: past meets present, figuration
collides with abstraction, and painting assumes the dense and weighty qualities of sculpture.
As the artist has explained, ‘When I touch on historical painters, I make comments based on
the specificity of my language and not on that of literature or poetry. I am just a narrator who
comments on the history of painting in various ways, using new materials: it is like a game that
consists of changing the code and the key to the artwork… Many of my colours, materials and
textures are the product of relived experiences of other masters. My painting involves much
refection’ (M. Valdés, quoted in Manolo Valdés [1981-2006], exh. cat., Museo Nacional Centro
de Arte Reina Sofía, Madrid, 2006, pp. 20-21).