GRANADA
Gardens
of the Alhambra
2004
89 x 116 cm
acrylic on canvas
In
1829, Washington Irving, considered one of the patriarchs
of American literature, had the privilege of staying for
some time in the Alhambra, where he wrote the
well-known
The Alhambra,
(1832), a series of legends about the people who had lived
in this palace in Moorish times. The publication of these
tales made an enormous contribution to the international
popularization of Granada and still draws hundreds of
thousands of visitors every year.
I visited the Alhambra
with my daughter Maria in May 2004. The fascination that
this palace provokes was diluted by the huge numbers of
visitors. We were forced to stand in long queues and
squeeze into the splendid rooms by the hundred. Despite all
this, the visit is highly recommendable, letting you admire
the elegance and sensuality of these buildings.
However,
we managed to find some quiet places in the intricate paths
through the palace, almost certainly because their
architectural modesty didn’t attract the attention of the
bulk of the visitors, who are attracted by, and insatiable
for, the voluptuousness of the mosaics, columns and
fountains. Narrow passageways and inner gardens still allow
the visitor to capture the spirit of the Alhambra. This
allows one’s imagination to slip, if only for a moment,
into the stories that happened there.
Our gaze fell on an
infinity of compositions modeled by the light, the
contrasts varying drastically with our steps and our
spirits could unexpected peace and nostalgia.
The
light in Alhambra
2004
89 x 130 cm
acrylic on canvas
When you visit the Alhambra, it is interesting to get off
the beaten track and stroll through the quieter, less
popular almost anonymous parts, but which also invite
contemplation and silence. They may be as magnificent as
the rooms with splendid mosaics or the enormous walls
covered in plaster reliefs. But humble corners like this
one, with a simple window, the whitewashed wall and the
red-tiled floor transmit serenity and peace. A special
sensation fills us when we see the bright sunlight that
washes in and its reflection on the floor lights up the
whole room mysteriously.
The wall is white, it seems white
to us and we call it white. However, if we look closely, if
we are sensitive to the tenuous chromatic variations, we
will see that nothing is white, and not even grey.
Once
again, it is very daring to search for the infinite and
subtle shades of color that the scene offers. Nothing is
the color it seems to be. Nothing shows the color of the
material it is made of, but everything seems to us to be
the color it should be.
Girl on the balcony, El Albalacín
2006
162 x 114 cm
acrylic on canvas
In Granada I
walked the streets of the Albaicín. A blinding light
bouncing off white houses, decorated with lots of flowers.
A girl comes out on the balcony to talk to someone who has
called her from the street. The wall faces north, in front
of the San Miguel Bajo square, out of the sun, only lit by
the intense light of the neighboring houses, especially the
church opposite it. A slow, calm, unhurried scene. This
neighborhood seduces me; its steep streets and popular
character fascinate me.
As it isn’t directly lit by the
sun, we cannot say that the white-painted wall is in fact
white, as all the light that reaches it is reflected off
the elements that surround it: the blue sky, the green
trees, the neighboring walls, the grey ground, the cars and
the people... and everything we can see around it. So it is
not that the wall is not only white, but also has many
subtle variations of hue, and for the sensitive eye or the
gaze of the artist, is an unreachable field for
exploration. But our eyes and brains normally simplify the
information, so, for us, the wall is white.
This painting
was a chance for me to study these shades.