Luc Tuymans, the great painter of the shadows, Luc Tuymans, the dreamer in the carven of Plato. Mr. Tuymans, are you the grey shadow who can see everything?
There’s a man trying to get the symbolism… there’s a man exceeding the primitivism and the own symbol… there’s a man questioning the great answer, the only answer: who are we? Who am I? How can I stay here looking at my future?
The exhibition, which opens the David Zwimer’s gallery in London, is answering beyond a question that becomes more than an answer and there’s no better artist to symbolize that than Luc Tuymans. Looking at his works we can be thinking on Gauguin or Picasso, two great geniuses in modern painting. They changed the perspective and they changed the point of view and I mean the point of view of the spectator, creating a new perspective and a new reflection about the historical fact of the artwork… But we are not now in Thaiti or in Ghernica, we are in this post-modern-post-futurist-post… everything. What can we obtain now? How much can we earn? Where’s the success point? Where’s the first origin? The man with the hat looking at the past is the man looking for a future and he’s the man without future. Isn’t it paradoxical? Of course, it isn’t because we can see a Botticeli’s man taking the apple and tasting the original sin, the only sin, the understanding, the meaning of the words and painting.
There’s a strange perspective covering of dark and fake and true shadows. Does it mean the shadow of the knowledge? Where’s the difference between the cavern and the shadow? We are now enjoying a dream in gray, a dream dreamt between the spectator and the artist, where’s the truth? Where’s the gray first chapter of this epic travel to the nonsense? Luc Tuymans is talking about the own essence of Alice’s mirror, about the intersection of the historical point of view and the cruelest point of view of the artist, sometimes tired sometimes sad, always happy to see the world falling into touches of love, maternity and serenity. We would like to be honest, we must lie, we might be cruel and we should be less human than we are. We cannot find it beyond the walls of this cavern made of dreams and falling expectations, made of gold and forgotten grounds, made of sons and made of angels, made of dreams… made of true touches in the middle of an invisible symbol.
We would like to congratulate Mr. Tuymans for getting something really difficult, maybe impossible… falling the true dream of this divine comedy we call solitude, we call life.
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