Eroticism is Also Absent Being
Her compositions can vary diametrically, leading the adventurous viewer through spaces of very organic and living forms, to places where a broken, violated geometry mercilessly rends the gaze.
As far as the discursive treatment of her work goes, I find it a true labyrinth, ignoring form, erasing it, deflowering it and reinterpreting it from its purest, essential level. Although her paintings belong to very objective referential codes and to precise anecdotal data, a second discursive space is born between strokes, between paintings, inadvertently inviting an unexpected meta-reading, the hyperbole of color.
Like a butterfly in flight, the author unconditionally gives herself up, in both body and breath, to the tyranny of the yoke of chromatic intensity. Her compositions can be considered abstract only in so far as the color allows, for after it lets itself be seen the color stitched together the borders and the inner spaces of each painting. As if seeking miracles, the tones becoming adjacent in each other’s memory, while convergent spaces suggest flights that never occur and promise the observer a soft but intense displacement of their gaze.
Her color scales seem like rebellious steps, furtive waves of disguised reasons, or an implosive boat ride through emotions and instincts. María José Romero believes in nothingness. She colors it and kneads it with sexuality, with rhythm.
Her indiscreet departure from formal regimes (and formality itself) generates an initial collapse of the compositional structures of her work. Cognitively, we find no horizon to hold our gaze, or any figure to grasp our thought. Perceptively, the work compels us to reach out and touch.
The work of María José Romero rests in the memory of her own body, remembering the verticality of physical pain and the hard accent of columns. After suffering a spinal accident, she immersed herself in the deconstruction of the signs of pain, stability and the perennial values of “feeling well." Without recourse to unnecessary metaphors or symbolic narratives, her painting reaches the verbalization, precisely, of these feelings, in this order: fall, fracture and return. Craxis.
Words like crackle, cracked, etc. come from purism. The title of the exhibition is eloquent, tough, but it also suggests a side concept I perceive with seductive doubt: intrusion. I like to think that all pain contains in its essence the palpitation of its contrary, and that in some complicit way it is a strong encouragement for life. Pain is an immanent part of human eroticism and this is one source of all that we are and that we dream to be. Pain is always a sign of absence and an absence of signs, like the silence of thought or the vocal quality when we cry. Life is duty because we don’t know what it is and yet it’s still there, like the desire that haunts us everywhere.
I must admit that the proposal of María José Romero can’t be applied to the general trends of current painting, and thus, the tasting of her work, like that of wine, coffee or an erotic moment, requires a brief sensory re-education. Two or three seconds of peace of mind before looking and a sincere closing of the eyes before speaking are enough to not only understand but also to succumb to the tenacious charm of her work.
I guarantee a long, one-way trip.
Mexico City , 2008