Es · En · De

Painter Soul

I am a painter and I am happy reading poetry, listening to music, observing nature, but however, I am not happy when I paint. When I read, listen or observe, I let my thoughts, my desires flow freely, and I forget my frustrations, but nevertheless, when I paint, that is when I perfectly become aware of my limitations, my helplessness. When I observe a herd of horses, or a pack of hounds, a herd of pigs, or a flock of sheep, these transmit feelings that a photo camera could never capture, because the specific moment would appear in the photography with the highest fidelity, but it would just be that moment. Whilst if the painter’ soul sees that herd of pigs go by, he will capture not only the plastics and the movement, but all the feelings that through time those pigs have created; and in the mind of the painter images will appear where the protagonists are pigs, like when I was a child and I stared with admiration, in the countryside, the fatten up pigs, the pig all the family healed thinking of the slaughter and in the festivity. When you observe the pig, older, grazing in the fields or when in a highway you cross a truck full of them, heading to the slaughterhouse, when you enter a supermarket and you find, at the end of the corridor, the counter of meats and cold cuts and you see the hams as a sublime ornament majestically hanging from the hooks… all this can not be captured in a moment with a photography, and all those feelings are the ones that I, as a painter, want to reflect on the canvas, and the result, with a limited knowledge and with an instinct unlimited in time, is what remains so that once the painting finished, the painter stays away from the work and becomes another viewer, waiting to make the painting the questions he would make to another work he would be observing and loving.


Jorge Rando, Malaga, January 2003