We already know that the fundamental condition of art is its uselessness. And every exhibition, every artwork, only reinforces this principle. Iuso knows this, as he knows almost everything. Because in the conceptual void of the blank page he described himself, in a kind of pulverized autobiography, where life, imagination and time coexist in continuous transformation, affirming and denying themselves, in an epic of solitude. Guillermo Iuso became an artist while painting, a writer while writing. Although, above all, his is an unrestrained way of feeling. He is the orphan of art, the magnate, the one who searches in action for its ulterior ends, leaving behind requests for help and care in his works, like clues in a treasure hunt leading to his heart… The one who lets himself be caressed by a lion, knowing it may tear his cheek without erasing his splendid smile. A profound resemblance between what is seen and what is lived. His pictorial fusion of detail and testimony seems to unfold an impossibility of naming himself. Like those children who cannot include themselves in their drawings, he is the complete opposite. In ME DESESPERO POR LO FÁCIL, Iuso translates the decantation of his spirit into slow waves of narcotic inspiration, always between surprise and banal observation that conceals an irony about the world. Like those masterpieces of sculpture that sometimes take the form of café tables, Iuso, in his works, lays out boundary-thoughts, in situations where words no longer matter and where love is only a symptom of his fabulations. Trying to overcome, at every moment, the barriers of modesty, Iuso performs a defense of egotism—also the construction of a myth—and the dramatization of his own life from multiple angles.
A natural storyteller and an unforgettable artist, with inimitable gifts for improvisation. Stories that overflow into memories, points of view, arrows and sparks, making paradox a way of painting.
Francisco Garamona.
