AL, Madrid desde la torre de bomberos de Vallecas. Óleo sobre lienzo 250 x 406 cm, 1997 – 2006.
Wall Street Journal presenta a Antonio López como el más grande los pintores vivos de nuestro tiempo, estableciendo involuntariamente una relación entre la polución de Madrid y la polución moral en Caína.
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Con motivo de la gran retrospectiva del Museum of Fine Arts de Boston, el recuerdo de la grandeza universal de Antonio López es cosa de Robert Hughes. El matiz de la polución lo evoca Karen Wilkin, sin advertir su alcance:
[ .. ] Revered in his native Spain, acclaimed by many, including the tough-minded critic Robert Hughes as «the greatest realist artist alive,» Mr. López García is something of a cult figure internationally, even in the U.S., where his work is seldom seen — his last solo show here, at Marlborough Gallery, New York, was in 1986. He is hailed as a poet of the commonplace, praised as a meticulous painter of gritty urban views and the accoutrements of daily life, admired for his uncannily lifelike sculptures.
[ .. ] Unlike these intimate subjects, the recent cityscapes — vast expanses of the unlovely, peripheral regions of Madrid — seem deliberately anonymous. They are notably roughhewn and patchy, with convincing jumbles of distant buildings or nearby trees resolving themselves into pats of paint and line. The color is bleached and drab, suggesting, however, not aesthetic choice but heat and pollution. Confronted by these tours de force of illusionism, I kept thinking about Matisse’s celebrated observation, «exactitude is not truth.» Or is it? [ .. ] [Wall Street Journal, 3 junio 08. Karen Wilkin, A Poet of the Commonplace].
La gran pintura impresionista ya nos anunció la belleza fáustica de los primeros atardeceres manchados por el smog. En la historia de Caína y la pintura española, el aire irrespirable de la gran ciudad, manchado por una finísima patina de polución, nos habla de la podredumbre física, sin duda; indisociable, me digo, históricamente, de las nuevas formas de pudrición de la conciencia y la moral cívica, maquilladas, en nuestro caso, con las luces fluorescentes de las mafias filantrópicas.
Retrato de María, 1972.
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