Praxis is pleased to present Una promesa incumplida, a solo show by the Argentine artist Belén López de Carlo.
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Today more than ever, the world is represented to us as a fleeting labyrinth of mirrors, or rather like reflections that when approached fade into entities
ghostly An unfulfilled promise seems to synthesize the fruitless sensation of that emptiness and disconnection between our images and our affections.
A while ago, I bought a Taoist alchemy book in Parque Centenario that talked about on the origin of images: “There where the light of consciousness collapses and delimitsWith the dark abysses of the unconscious, lies the generative source of imagination”. On the other hand, Rudolf Steiner, in a similar vein, speaks of the “Records Akashics”, which would be something like etheric archives where our most significant experiences would be recorded and suspended in time. Through certain procedures, we could access these records to reveal the golden thread of our existence, where the answers to our future lie.
It is curious how, many times, the most transcendent experiences are summarized in our interior as minimal and casual images.
The sweet breeze that the extinct flutter of a butterfly left in your hand.
The flowers that among the shine of broken glass remind us of the look of that person we once loved.
I like to think of Belén as a constellation painter, who dives into the depths of his own images and with devotion he restores and conjures them. Belén matured these works for two years with fervent dedication to two variables that today seem quite scarce: one is time and the other is knowledge. But above all to the
honesty of painting that has always been a means to discover our own gradual treasure and finally become the tool to lift our veils illusory and, perhaps, finally reach that mysterious eye that from a pink heart fluorescent light whispers to us “Look no further! You are the music of your own landscape!”
In closing, my Akashic Records insist (although I do not agree) on leave this fragment of a poem by Rilke:
Because it’s a lot to be here, and because apparently everything from us needs us. here, the fleeting, in a strange way concerns us. To us, the more fleeting. Everything once, just once. Once and nothing more. And we also once. Never another. But this once-in-a-lifetime, even if it’s just one alone: having been earthly, it seems irrevocable.
Nahuel Vecino
Paternal, July 2024
