Mejor te como la boca /I better eat your mouth
oil, charcoal on canvas
130 x 130 cm
It's true. I also believe that modernity has a DNA plagued by masks and monsters and by an urgent need for almost pornographic nudity. We are infected with advertising and need for attention. From Onlyfan and Tik Tok. Every day there are more naked bodies on the networks, cold and dead bodies that seek social approval of the crack in the skin and in the soul. We transform Instagram and Facebook into the “open” book of our individuality, however, we continue to look down on threesomes, orgies, transvestites. We continue playing the little bottle as if our lives depended on it. As if we feel really attacked by the lips of some stranger that we are dying to kiss. I stopped looking a while ago. I got married. I had a daughter. I made my studio. I began compulsively painting over my own life. I gave myself the chance to abandon myself to my own demons, and they led me to the demons of the city. I believe in art as a mixture of everything: aesthetics, concept, and way of life, beyond the manifestation that it may be. My painting is theatrical and underground because I am from the theater and from the underworld. Because I like to see people without clothes who are not ashamed of themselves and take on life with a frightening handsomeness. A while ago I stopped painting my muses. I stopped painting even the suggestive photos that keep coming to my WhatsApp. Random faces and bodies took over the canvas. The search opened up another imaginary of a brothel city, a transvestite city, a city of masks. Because Matanzas is a dark city, with dark people. Small brothel surrounded by water with no escape. I am on the canvas, and there are all of them. My friends and my strangers. All monsters that pat me on the back, and that I meet when I turn the corner, and with whom I have a beer. That is why these paintings are no longer the paintings of actresses and theater. They are the pictures of the brothel and lies, of masks and nudism, of the delivery of meat without shame, of the sexual freedom that is longed for, or envied, or kept secret. They are the pictures of the city to which I belong, to which we all belong, and in which we feign our perfection and our good faith, but we dream of eating each other's mouths. Abandoning myself, in both senses – that of letting myself be and that of letting myself fall by the wayside – made me abandon the particularity of familiar faces to start portraying an entire underworld of beings who abandon themselves on a daily basis. Of those outlined bodies, fitness, hard, but cold, dry and dead that flood the networks and walk in front of my studio professing the law of heartbreak. Those same bodies that pretend not to know you the next day, because modernity is supposed to be about that: the eternal party, the eternal brothel and the looping soundtrack of any cabaret movie. Those are the monsters that seduce me, those are the bodies of my paintings. They, they, you, us, me. Any. Sick bodies of a self-destructive virtuality. Bodies in blue, orange, red... soulless bodies of a city that mercilessly abandons itself every day to the darkness of losing itself.