The Brooklyn Rail

During the preview of Miquel Barceló’s exhibition at the Museum Küppersmühle in Germany, a visitor asked the artist why there is so much death in his paintings. Barceló looked somewhat surprised. “Is there, really?” he said, pretending to be unaware. The woman insisted; for her the paintings came with an unpleasant, gloomy presence. “It is part of life,” the artist responded, somewhat uncomfortable, and moved on to discuss the pieces on display. Even though the short answer did not satisfy the questioner, the dialogue led to the heart (and title) of the exhibition Vida y Muerte [Life and Death], which showcases around seventy paintings plus some ceramic works the Spanish artist has made over the last forty years, with a focus, though not exclusively, on the still life genre.

Still life involves looking at a grouping of objects—a vase with flowers, some vegetables or fruits—often with the inclusion of a clock, skull, or other reminder that time is passing. In the works of Barceló, who was born and raised on the island of Mallorca, animals of the sea, such as lobster, shrimp, and octopuses, are often included. Books and knives also show up. Four prominent paintings, among them Poe (2022), are executed largely in black and white, each of them showing a long table on which a diverse collection is displayed. The eye can wander around to identify a plant, an apple, a candle, and shrimp, among many other things, each with their own space.

Not less interesting is the dark void underneath the table in each of these works, drawing the eye to a space that is not clearly delineated. This underworld seems like the big Nothing, maybe death indeed, above which the fruits and pleasures of life articulate themselves. Occasionally you might find a dog under the table, sitting, watching, or resting, just as there is usually a dog around in the studio when Barceló makes his paintings. The animals that surround him (important to the artist, as he has noted, for they keep him grounded in life) frequently end up in his paintings. Once they are painted, it is hard to say if they are dead or alive, an ambivalence that works well, surrounding them with mystery, like in Grisaille avec tigre et espadon [Grisaille with Tiger and Swordfish] (2022).

The question about death brought forward a beautiful misunderstanding, or maybe just the paradox of the work. How then, can death and life coexist in painting, being both real and valid? I cannot say that one of them wins. Certainly, there are spooky parts, shady corners, and rough patches. But the work is full of virtuosity; the artist clearly enjoys the act of painting and passes his enthusiasm on to the viewer through his quick touch and dynamic brush (or hand-, or spray-) work. He has a way of touching the canvas that leads to both rough and open patches, and to more defined moments. He pairs subtle with uninhibited gestures, and in that mix of expressions, he makes the things and creatures of the world look present and alive. He embraces the illusionistic options of the medium, creating understated shadows around a piece of fruit, while on the other hand also following the paint as such, letting the color, texture, and material speak. All of this makes the paintings quite festive.

Food is prominent in the work. And putting things on the table, serving them in these paintings, basically stands for discussing life as it comes, with its sensual pleasures, but also with its mental or subconscious torments. Some early works, such as Gran cena española [Big Spanish Dinner] (1985), feel existential; thick with paint, they show pans on the stove and exude a heavy presence. Later works are often more open, lighter in the treatment of the surface and consequently in atmosphere, for instance Nature morte avec gâteau d'anniversaire [Still Life with Birthday Cake] (2021). A paella almost contains everything, the artist noted, and sometimes he paints the famous rice dish that can be made with mussels, shrimp, and whatever is left in the fridge. Transformed into painting, it is ready for contemplation.

The questioner at the preview was not entirely wrong; there is indeed death in the work, in skulls and other allusions, in ambivalence between animals being alive or dead, in emptiness underneath the table. I suspect that Barceló is actually quite aware of the big void and might even be afraid of it. Like Picasso, he produces a lot of work in different media, unstoppable, almost frantic. This creative drive could be understood as a way to deal with death. To stay ahead of it, so to speak, and to fill the void, even if that itself is an illusion. His work is melancholic and dark, but is then balanced by a fine and subtle sense of color, with a festivity that is hard to resist. Come join the table, his paintings say, look at what is there. With the awareness that time is passing, the artist creates his work like a committed Sisyphus who cannot conquer the mountain but knows how to enjoy the views on the way up. Indeed, death is part of life, and the artist does not want to ignore that.