SON OF THE CLASSIC MASTERS
The artist Carlos Buró, educated and trained in Santander and resident in Barcelona since 1946, is an unconventional aesthete by nature and education. The presented works subtly combine elegance and sarcasm, enhanced with a touch of bitterness, resignation, defiance and tenderness. It is a disturbing, complex work dressed with perfection and preciousness, placidity and timelessness which, in a malicious way, disorientates and misleads us. His work is full of messages of decoding and identification, inversely proportional to the facility with which they are registered by the eyes. Under the aesthetics of a Renaissance aspect, the artist carries out a process of a continuous metamorphosis like a plastic representation of the sacrifice and even of death, in spite of its unquestionable vital appearance. Many of his works are difficult to understand, sometimes they are terribly tough, but they disguise themselves under a plastic irony which absorbs the spectator and traps him because of their vibrant colours.
The sometimes emitted inner controversial nature contrasts on other occasions with an extraordinary sensitive and absolutely poetic creativity, which shows us the possibilities of an erupting (although not uncontrollable) imagination which includes elements of different perceptive levels.
Reality and unreality conjugate, sentiments and intellect beseech our truths or most intimate farces, those which, due to incommodity, we use to ignore. More than 25 years ago we used to say that the work of Carlos Buró was situated at the antipodes of the painting en vogue, while he was confronting his own conformist appearance against the general appearance of rupture of that one.
Androgens, maternities, festive rites of the collective regeneration which utilizes everyday elements and objects in order to represent absolutely phantasmagorical situations which are equally true reflections of absolutely real situations. Being an artistic personality beyond the common, his singularity is presented to us like a challenge, if not directly like a defiance straight away.
It’s a dialoguing monologue of extremely complex simplicity. Just like the disguised realities of dreams.