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UAN CARRILLO suffered a chilhood divided among Caravaggio's shadows, Goya`s blackness and the spasms of a part of a Spain who is attacking the other one. What Juan Carrillo has done in his entire life is to embellish his own trauma and turn blackness into colors. His painter's knife enriched by Levante (an eastern Spanish region), gets white into flowers, green into marine, and orchids into orange trees. The warm browns come from Extremadura (western region from Spain).
The boy was transplanted from the Mediterranean orgies colours of the asceticism of the pure evergreen oaks, from the flyer cork trees as sebastian's, and the simple vines and nutritive wheat, to the rougt sackcloth of the migrating sheep's countrywoman. From Aldeanueva del Camino to Plasencia thirty kilometres of dusty coast follow in order, where the life spouts concentrated and miraculous in that incredible birth of evergreen oaks that turns up broken rocky hills. when the courtier discourage from Paris confuses Juan Carrillo, the painter searches in the Holm-oak the ancestors of a country where mystic, fascinated, fatalist and esteparies ascetics accommodated.
The Carrillo linen clothes transpire a fume of chilhood in their darken women, all of them, widows of something, static or bended in a Millet time. Or flower young girls ad peaches skins. Or bodegones where the humility ennobles. And often the evergreen oak, robust, in some occasions shaded with Nazarene violet as premonition of its impious tree ending. And as background of his linen clothes, the impossible yellow and orange fireside that explode in a harmonious fusion of the spectre. But after this chromatic rainbow joy, it would be rude to stay only with visual enjoyment and not to penetrate into the trascendence of a light turned into silence, Gregorian petrified air that seems to filter by the cathedral glass window, mystic atmosphere of Fray Angelico.
After the colour, or just in the colour, beats the wound of a melancholy making linen cloth that the painter embellishes taking out color of his blackness.
VICTOR CHAMORRO
Writer
