Eighteen years have passed between the day a file bearing the name of Emilia Gutiérrez (1928-2003) fell into the hands of curator Rafael Cippolini and the materialization of this vast exhibition. The delay is understandable. As fascinating as the artist’s canvases are, they are also difficult to digest: Indifferent both to the avant-gardes of the 20th century and to the social conflicts of an Argentina on the verge of dictatorship, his mark of realism does not seek the complicity of the gaze, but rather plunges into his inner world.
Gutiérrez had seven solo exhibitions during his life, but it was not until 2004, a year after his death, that a book about his work was published. She was nicknamed “flamenco”, in reference to his obsessive study of artists such as Bosch and Van Eyck, as well as certain Flemish characteristics of his work, notably his palette, his penchant for small-format oil paintings, the incisive gestures of his figures and the strange atmosphere that surrounds his scenes.
Gutiérrez is a candid and accessible type of realism, appealing to a broader sensibility despite a relatively limited set of resources. She places her compositions on flat surfaces in subtle variations of greens, blues and ochres, with the unwavering confidence of someone always painting the same picture. Many of her paintings depict women in a world plagued by grotesque, dark, and sometimes even hostile creatures. In lolly1974, a faint glimmer of desire haunts the eyes of an extravagantly dressed woman sitting in a bar where, judging by her expression and posture, she seems to have finally found refuge.
Translated from Spanish by Michèle Faguet.
