Revelaciones
Every work of art is a revelation. Art has a soul. He who the spirit visits creates with joy, charm, momentum, and transmits it. The style, the poetics have a grip on the endless pursuit, on hard work; the commitment to art is full time. The roads in art are endless; this is one of the mysteries and part of the motivation for those who have a particular relationship to the adventure of creating, which is an indescribable pleasure and an energy source that is renewed with each work.
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The subjects of painting are found in small, simple, easy things. As stated by Antoni Tàpies, “painting can be everything. It can be a solar clarity in the midst of a breath of wind. It can be a sweet air of dawn, or a chant in the open blue or yellow sky. It may be who we are, today, now and forever”.
In the work of Julie Sassón there is light, passion, strength; freedom is perceived in her painting, a multifaceted look. Her paintings exhibit warmth, emotion, bliss; they have their own signic resonance; the artist —with the mastery of space, composition, color— internalizes into the depths to give them connotations beyond the obvious. Reality takes other levels, where the light, the hollows, the evanescence records tracks that transcend memory, which have their foundation in intuition, in metaphysics.
The set of paintings grouped in Revelations is the result of inherited knowledge and craft of the highest painting tradition by which the artist creates a single syntax that comes from her feelings. Evocations of minimalism, of Japanese impressionism dialogue with nature recreated by Sassón, who coheres a speech filled with color, harmony, moving metaphors.
– Carlos López
Danzan las piedras,
revuelcan jubilosas
luces, sonrojos.
Arriba nadie mira
la explosión diamantina.
Señal en tránsito,
infinitud inmóvil,
florece el cielo.
Veneros de oro.
En la soledad, caos,
ríos turquesa:
una etérea vela
surca la Vía Láctea.
Astillas, sueños,
rebelión de colores
revelan nudos.
Lluvia de flores:
el Universo enciende
bordes de noche.
Caligrafía
del centro nebuloso,
niño en el logos.
Se incendia el mar:
devuelve al firmamento
tintas mareas.
Memoria, tiempo,
¿qué secretos encierra?
Polen de estrellas,
armonía de esferas,
ecos de caracolas.
Se difuminan
las luces en la franja
de la hora cero.
Más allá, el infinito,
ruptura de los sueños.
La piel del lago
abrasado desagua
peces de fuego.
Se estampan al poniente
sueños enfebrecidos.
Vagan reflejos
en el cerrado mar,
se oye el silencio.
Un viento roto
acarrea soledades
del páramo albo;
del lejano horizonte,
metáforas al vuelo.
Rozan la noche
en el alto jardín
sahumerios, huellas.
Devela arcanos
la tormenta florida:
abre la aurora.
Voces en fuga,
relámpago en la cima,
trozos, caminos.
En azul sueño,
la inmensidad se toca,
halo divino.
Tres hadas en el aire,
luces en el follaje.
Creciente de agua,
truenan enardecidas
rebeldes musas.
Latigazos de luz
en la nada, en el todo.