LOS CUENTOS BÁRBAROS

**The Barbaric Tales** This series began to take shape at the end of summer this year, born from the sharp observation of someone who knows my work and intentions all too well. It was necessary to create a large paper-based series that could contain all the chaos of my thoughts. Paper, as a medium, had to serve as a liberating act in contrast to the historically grandiose canvas. In essence, I was only ever seen as truly free when drawing on some scrap of paper, without expectations or hopes—simply engaging in a physiological, vital, and direct act on the simplest of surfaces. The thirty works were produced in parallel with my usual oil paintings. The architect of this suggestion, Mr. Robinson, acted as a watchful presence throughout the execution of the series. After the first fifteen works, I faced a peculiar medical restriction—I was prohibited from working with oil paints to avoid their corrosive and intense fumes. Once again, Mr. Robinson’s foresight proved invaluable, persuading me to carry out this series. Night after night, the sheets followed one another, leaving behind a trail of unsettling calm. Drawing became a soothing means of facing the past days, during both the amusing illness and curious convalescence. It was like the most comfortable of mental armchairs, reminiscent of what Henri Matisse declared in his most powerful statement about his work: calm and beauty, calm and voluptuousness, calm and redemption. *The Barbaric Tales*, a title borrowed from Paul Gauguin’s masterpiece, is a narrative that must carry, above all, the lingering scent of fear as its primary atmospheric element. The entire series is guided by a zoological frenzy, which, paradoxically, seems almost gentle when compared to the times we inhabit. Any allegory on paper becomes a beautiful image if one truly understands the intentions of a human being. As I mentioned before, *The Barbaric Tales* were woven in an effort to purge certain fears, yet in the end, they became utterly consumed by a singular and absolute fear. This fear is the origin and vital essence of our era. It is fear that shapes our current history, and, much like the most comfortable of armchairs emerging from Matisse’s most brilliant paintings, I know no other atmosphere. Fear becomes the vital air that reanimates the lungs. In the end, I seek nothing. My disorientation upon the blank plane is legendary. This series of works holds no particular intention, yet in its daily course, it has served to make profound discoveries about the world I walk through, the few people I know, and the figure that attentively observes me from the mirror each day. **José Luis Carranza** Lima, Winter 2023