Last December I was in the Sahara. Once more, I returned to Africa. Soon, I remembered an exhibition of Miquel Barceló that CaixaForum set up in Madrid seven years ago. A bunch of great images. His work on paper also brought me back to Africa. That continent of multiracial lineages that obsesses me and that I have been walking regularly for a few years now..
His African watercolors triggered a good tug of the eyes in me. There was a time when I really liked Barceló. “Live” I have enjoyed considerable pieces of his in terms of conception and size.. On paper, I already knew from other exhibitions, books and catalogs their “cirials” human figures adorned in color. It was a pleasant surprise to have, after so much time and so “by eye”, his african impressions. But, a pang of unease hit me: Would there be some crossroads where I, obsessive traveler, could match the famous artist?
Barceló's African watercolors triggered a good eye-roll in me
Certainly, The colors and light projected on the smooth, shiny paper were the same ones that my memory recognized on the continent.. Their images had dressed the map of their bodies with life. Could I, through words, get the same? A more detailed analysis led me to conclude that we were narrating from different angles. Effectively, both, light and color are always there. But, while their subjects burst into repose, mine do it on the move and, in some cases, in solitude.
The Barceló subjects explode at rest; mine, in motion
It's about men carrying bags, of men playing who knows what on any corner of any street or highway, of men chattering at the door of their shacks or drinking tirelessly in bars, of men squatting in any square, market or roundabout waiting to be hired by some multinational foreman.
Or of babies crying against their mothers' rainbow skirts., their noses rimmed with snot. And as boys – many more than girls – walking to school in resplendent uniforms – a legacy of British colonization or a desire to ignore social differences??. With lunches reduced to a crouton of bread wrapped in a sheet of old, oily newspaper.
Creatures crying against their mothers' rainbow skirts, their noses rimmed with snot
Or women washing clothes in the river, of women stirring homemade beer at the door of their huts, of women tempting black cakes in the market.
In some images of Barceló the link was also evident, communion between people. It is also the same for me when I visit them and live with them.. We have known for a long time that, to survive extinction, Our ancestors had to come down from the trees and conquer the planet “in company”; as also “in company” they made and we make war. And, maybe walking or running, they use the weapons that we sell them. To those who stayed and did not emigrate.
I have spoken of Africa that moves, but there are many more
I have spoken of Africa that moves, although there are many more. Those that depend on the time of year, of the countries that make it up or the state of mind of the inhabitant and traveler after learning of the latest plague that devastates them.. Also those who have, for his misfortune, the minerals that will be great for the latest generation of computers, iPods, iPads y iPhones. I like the one related to the rainbow. With its intense and opulent tones that vary according to the time, the month and the region.
I'll take those women who walk indefatigable Africa
Finally, there is the Africa with which I have stayed. It is about a woman who crosses the continent on open land or along roads – if there are any – and trails.. Always with a pack-and the baby if it has- to the back or on the head. Always alone. Always silent. The millennial silence of hunger and death. At measured and much more distinguished steps, perhaps because they already disbelieved in everything, than those who walk our Haute Couture models on the catwalks of the most expensive stores in the world. Where the richest rich people in the world buy clothes. With money from weapons sold to children, husbands, brothers and fathers – dead or emigrated – of those women who tirelessly walk Africa. Or with the money from the minerals necessary to manufacture the latest generation of computers, iPhones, iPods y iPads.
