"Expressões"
GolegãBetween the apparent reactions and the expressions of one’s gaze, we can slip into another dimension, where man is confronted with his human and animal reality, at times beyond his awareness.
Diogo Navarro
And it distorts the purpose of the drawing, lending it flame-shaped structures, recalling Apollo’s high priestess in Delphos, but also anthropomorphic shapes in a turbid world without definition or boundaries, as if an absence, yes, Diogo Navarro, as if you paint absence in various dimensions which are sometimes metaphorical and other times like the fleshless skeleton of the other’s eye upon you and upon what you paint.
José Manuel Arrobas
Invitation
Text
The horse’s face then becomes a mask that reflects feelings, codes and expressions that can only be translated by the soul and character of whoever feels it.
Between the apparent reactions and the expressions of one’s gaze, we can slip into another dimension, where man is confronted with his human and animal reality, at times beyond his awareness.
When Diogo Navarro paints, he writes poems about human experience, where he poetically manages to change the world around him, to transform the world as we usually see and understand it. And this is how he can express life and be life himself. And this is how he goes arm in arm with his colours, colouring the world while he himself takes the colours that he puts on his canvas, in a perfect, natural mimicry in which he blends into what he paints. And he transforms into what he paints. And he is what he paints, and he is an active poem of loose verses, without form or rhyme, but where he hops around like the mythical gods of the forests. There is always a becoming, where he will paint another painting and another, where he will make another drawing, where he himself will always be another painter and not the same one. And the painting transcends him, and invites us to watch him transcend and to go in search what exists within all of us.
He transforms form, going beyond what he feels, and ends up by losing himself in a kind of no-where, from where one looks and sees and forgets that time passes and is time, offering oneself to a limitless space or in which the limit is only its absence, made only of graphics and signs where one seeks to understand and to be understood. Everything is in movement in Diogo Navarro. Everything is movement in a permanent transience, in a "already and not yet", but which is always full of that because he passes, feels, lives and manages to create. There is a magic contained in an almost mystical and mysterious becoming, which is simultaneously secret and sacred, that unites and separates, constructs and deconstructs, in a constant quest for itself, in an itself that resides within one’s breast that is one’s own transcendence.
Without painting, for Diogo Navarro, there can be no poetry, there can be no melody, there can be no life, there can be no love. In him there is a constant hiding to be seen and which can be revealed, to be him and not what the others may think that he is, in a being above and below, recalling Hermes Trismegisto, turning one’s own body into celestial space and at the same time the atom "that one day became alive ", and of which it is still made. And with his transforming power, he transforms joy into pain, in a sometimes "chiaroscuro", of so many famous painters, and in which he then transforms pain into joy like an orchestra into a "fortíssimo". And lives.
- Diogo Navarro’s paintings are home to the most varied and strange forms of beings conceived only within himself and which seem to come from interstellar space or seem to always be germinating within him, like blood dripping from an open wound. They are thoughts and thoughts have no shape, they are feelings and feelings have no limits. What does Diogo think about when he thinks? We can only imagine and add our imagination to his and then go off in discovery (of an unknown that art never lets us know) of him, as a person, as a painter, as Diogo Navarro, who beset speaks to us in Portuguese, his mother tongue, but also in the many languages that he invents.
Between the apparent reactions and the expressions of one’s gaze, we can slip into another dimension, where man is confronted with his human and animal reality, at times beyond his awareness.
When Diogo Navarro paints, he writes poems about human experience, where he poetically manages to change the world around him, to transform the world as we usually see and understand it. And this is how he can express life and be life himself. And this is how he goes arm in arm with his colours, colouring the world while he himself takes the colours that he puts on his canvas, in a perfect, natural mimicry in which he blends into what he paints. And he transforms into what he paints. And he is what he paints, and he is an active poem of loose verses, without form or rhyme, but where he hops around like the mythical gods of the forests. There is always a becoming, where he will paint another painting and another, where he will make another drawing, where he himself will always be another painter and not the same one. And the painting transcends him, and invites us to watch him transcend and to go in search what exists within all of us.
He transforms form, going beyond what he feels, and ends up by losing himself in a kind of no-where, from where one looks and sees and forgets that time passes and is time, offering oneself to a limitless space or in which the limit is only its absence, made only of graphics and signs where one seeks to understand and to be understood. Everything is in movement in Diogo Navarro. Everything is movement in a permanent transience, in a "already and not yet", but which is always full of that because he passes, feels, lives and manages to create. There is a magic contained in an almost mystical and mysterious becoming, which is simultaneously secret and sacred, that unites and separates, constructs and deconstructs, in a constant quest for itself, in an itself that resides within one’s breast that is one’s own transcendence.
Without painting, for Diogo Navarro, there can be no poetry, there can be no melody, there can be no life, there can be no love. In him there is a constant hiding to be seen and which can be revealed, to be him and not what the others may think that he is, in a being above and below, recalling Hermes Trismegisto, turning one’s own body into celestial space and at the same time the atom "that one day became alive ", and of which it is still made. And with his transforming power, he transforms joy into pain, in a sometimes "chiaroscuro", of so many famous painters, and in which he then transforms pain into joy like an orchestra into a "fortíssimo". And lives.
- Diogo Navarro’s paintings are home to the most varied and strange forms of beings conceived only within himself and which seem to come from interstellar space or seem to always be germinating within him, like blood dripping from an open wound. They are thoughts and thoughts have no shape, they are feelings and feelings have no limits. What does Diogo think about when he thinks? We can only imagine and add our imagination to his and then go off in discovery (of an unknown that art never lets us know) of him, as a person, as a painter, as Diogo Navarro, who beset speaks to us in Portuguese, his mother tongue, but also in the many languages that he invents.
