As you can see, YM is changing little by little. Times changes and we need to change too. I will use this column as a confessionary. When I was just 18, I didn’t like very much modern art –well, in fact, I failed in drawing every year, then it’s normal I hated drawing-. I have a friend years ago… he was a painter –and I suppose he continues painting, I don’t know-. He was very interested in the structure of painting, in the secret story that an oil can tell us. He expressed abstract ideas through his oils and he used old techniques that we have forgotten today. It would be an original idea, but there was something weird in his lines, in his kind of composing… I mean, where or when was The Time? He tried to express the modern thinking through the old forgotten techniques from the Florence School, recreating an ancient and death static world, The Time fighting against the times and the History, like a decrepit young and ancient man trying to survive just for one hour more.
I can feel something similar when I look at one piece of modern art. Where is the sense of eternity? I don’t know what Oscar Wilde felt when he was writing ‘The Portrait of Dorian Gray’, but maybe this book can contain a primary idea of modern art: art is the remaining part of the beautiful past someday could exist –sorry for my interpretation, Mr. Wilde, if you don’t like it, I invite you to revive and fight-. I mean, we can remember the 19th century in the novels and fantastic oils that have survived Time, by the words of the genius who lived in a period and converted that period in a time that we should like to live. Is that the reality? Of course it’s not and of course it is. The art has the magnificent quality of changing everything and everyone. Music can make us stronger than a butterfly or sweeter than a lion and novels can change History with just a few words and -sorry for that- most of the History we can remember today has been written by novelists, not by historians.
And here we are at the end and at the beginning, trying to reflect about modern art… Years ago, I even hated Picasso and I don’t know why… maybe because I was in Spain and here we use to hate everything that comes from Spain or maybe because I was too young to understand the real and tragic problem of art: The Ecstatic and Static Time and its Paradox… and every time I go to a museum of modern art I can feel this paradox, in every movement or every painting or sculpture. Yes, we all are going to die and we all are trying to escape our existence through art. We can watch a painting paying all our attention in the topic, in the structure or in the technique… in the period that it was made… in the biography of the artist… but, ultimately, there’s something mysterious that can make us love or hate it. How can we explain the success of ‘The Scream’ by Munch? It’s not a happy oil and it’s not a happy idea and there’s nothing happy about it but we really love it. Why? We can argue hundreds of opinions and we can explain Munch’s bio but we will never be able to explain the fascination of that painting.
And, dear friends, this is just fantastic and this is the only reason why I love art: nobody will be able to explain it. Feel it!