Everything about the setup surrounding Catalan artist The Catman seems a bit of a no-no. A pseudonym that smacks of the ridiculous.

Of course, art does not have to spend two months hanging in a white-cube gallery to acquire its kudos, and nor does an artist earn his epaulets through the classiness of his name. Far from it. But there is something patently unjust about this artist’s relative obscurity. For The Catman is not only a painter, but a latter-day troubadour with a remarkable voice, whose approach to art is not only exciting, but salutary. 

To look at, the acrylic-on-canvas paintings are a rollercoaster of Dionysus versus Apollo; the artist has pulled off the incredible feat of letting his bold colors loop, drip and smear with glorious abandon, while at the same time having impeccable judgment and restraint as to their positioning. But what makes his works stand out just that bit further are the crudely-etched, poetic fragments woven in among the brilliant marks. These are, in so many ways, the very soul of each painting.

“Seven red seas flying over your head;” ”Por las verdades absolutas lanza el diablo sus carcajadas de hielo;” ”Things I’ll never tell;” the mysterious child-like lyrics act as a linchpin for a restful and stimulating exploration of other aspects of the work such as its composition, texture and hues that may be less easy to interpret at first sight. A single painted word “DRAMATISMO” immediately opens up the feeling of the jagged yellows, pale pinks and reds hanging ominously over an empty skeletal chair, roughly hewn in black crayon.

At times in Spanish, English or French, the written words of the painting enable an instantaneous connection between the work as a whole and its audience, bringing the latter into a synonymous state of mind to the artist at the time of making. This fact alone is huge: just by giving an audience something to understand about the work, they are swept into a tide of curiosity and recognition, so beginning a journey downstream during which impressions and associations collect like foliage and end finally in a deeper, greater comprehension.

Exploring The Catman’s work is not pretentious or exhausting but in fact gratifying and delightful. His words never offer any kind of explanation as to the painting’s “meaning” (was there ever one?) but do serve to honorably slay the eternal and pervading concerns of contemporary art’s elitism and inaccessibility, offering a little food for thought while leaving enough mystery, and enough possibility, for viewers to become dreamers.

Audaciously elegant, unabashedly romantic and yet unafraid to court cynicism, The Catman’s work is – to the art world’s often disheartening obscurity – a brilliant light.

He grows and becomes a person in Barcelona, he likes to draw and lose himself in his ideas. He begins to win competitions in school and outside, creates logos, graphic designs – and why not -, furniture, decors, drawings, paintings and more paintings, small writings, design objects, textile prints, ephemeral architecture…and anything susceptible to be interpreted, possessed by the irreducible spirit of the

With time, his world gives form to a shop – Zeta – refuge of objects and ideas, and a meeting place of worries.

Six years later reality devours the dream, he returns to his little things and jumps into the unreal world of publicity as a creator and artistic director – to balance this mental leap he actively participates in the real and idealistic world of charity organizations, helping to design the necessary so that the message can be heard loud and clear -.

He only hangs his paintings on affectionate walls and believes in the ultimate goodness of human nature.

Beautiful things improve the world, but if one must shoot, creativity is the best weapon.

Le opere

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