In finding my own style, I also drew on Uruguay’s abstract traditions but did not limit myself to what was considered orthodox. I was eager to find something more pliable, more exciting than what tradition could offer. Perhaps that is why classifying my art as “Uruguayan” or “contemporary Latin American” would be an oversimplification.
For South American art in general and Uruguayan art in particular, Spain was the biggest influence for most of colonial history. It was the first Spanish settlers who introduced to our continent the painting techniques of the Iberian Peninsula, paving the way for Costumbrismo, which depicted local everyday life, mannerisms, and customs. In the 19th and 20th Century, Uruguayan art began to find its own voice. Aside from Futurism and Cubism, Planismo emerged as a new stylistic choice. Petrona Viera, a leading proponent, used flat structures and a warm palette to depict themes of daily life and later in her career, landscapes. Afterwards, Constructivism burst onto the scene, blending elements of Neoclassicism, Cubism, and Primitivism. Universal Constructivism, founded by Joaquín Torres García, took the movement one step further. In his compositions, timeless axioms such as the golden ratio dictate how elements are organized and proportions determined. Torres García was, in effect, looking for an absolute, universal art, to represent a cosmic order governed by logos, which he believed called for inventing his own visual language. In the 1940s, the Madí movement, which emerged in Argentina and Uruguay, sought to create through art self-contained worlds that bore no direct relationship to objective reality. In the 1950s, Informalism marked a clean break from figuration through reconceptualizing space and mediums. Artists used thickly applied plaint and sometimes tools of their own invention on the canvas, pushing the envelope of visual expression. The impact of Constructivism and Informalism is still present today, as these two styles characterize a good part of Uruguayan contemporary art. In creating my own visual semantics, I am inspired by masters like Torres García. He shows that it is possible to represent all things and ideas using basic elements and universal symbols. Perfection, as he might say, is found in simplicity.
In a different creative realm, the folk music traditions of Uruguay have provided another source of cultural references for my art, whose defining features include intense colors, formless shapes and a sense of movement, which, coincidentally, reflect subjectivity and indirectness, a kind of transmuted experience. Murga, a uniquely Uruguayan art form, is a type of popular musical theater, usually comprising a choir and three percussionists and is most frequently associated with Carnival. Another musical tradition that nourishes my creations is Candombe. Originating among Afro-Uruguayans who are descendants of liberated slaves, Candombe is a style of music and dance with a distinct African-derived rhythm, marked by tapping on three barrel-shaped drums, chico, piano and repique. Candombe is commonly heard in the inaugural parade each February when the Uruguayan Carnival kicks off in the capital city, Montevideo. Candombe music can also be heard (and seen) on New Year’s Day, Christmas Eve, or a Sunday like any other, when Afro-Uruguayans get together to sing and dance around a bonfire.
Murga and Candombe are very much in my blood. They are the music to my memories of summer Carnivals, light, colors, songs, rhythm, expression, freedom, and dreams. I remember sitting by the pavement with my family, water balloons and confetti in hand, anxiously waiting for the parade to start. The joy and energy are forever etched in my memory. The cultural diversity of Uruguay—half European, half African—as embodied in its music, has shaped my own voice in art, which is unique in its hybridity. While my works are stylistically more Western, philosophically they are the product of cultural and religious influences from around the world. This diversity of perspectives provides a rich reservoir of ideas and concepts that taken together, form the spiritual identity of my art. Fluidity and movement, another characteristic of my art, is perhaps reminiscent of water, rooted in my memories of growing up by the La Plata River, the widest river in the world. To me, water represents mystery and concealment, as few symbols are more powerful than that of rivers and oceans in igniting the human desire to traverse the unknown.