We are such stuff that dreams are made of, says Shakespeare in “The Tempest” and Borges translates it, fortuitously, into “Seven Nights”, and from the wood of dreams. Inevitably this text comes to mind every time I look at works by Nuria Vidal. Just as I inevitably associate whisky with chocolate and chocolate with whisky (sic). Her painting is, undoubtedly, made from the wood of dreams. Shakespeare, by Borges.
“NV‘s work,”- says the gallerist May Moré – “manages to trap me, it forces me to look at it deeply, it invites me to stop time. With her meticulous technique of layering and layering paint on the canvas she gets the pigments to gain intensity in a very subtle way, as if suggesting the colour.”
Evanescent forms, light and colour that become metamorphosed in nature: horizons, infinite spaces, flowers. But, above all, a pleasant pictorial space that invites us to share and also project our feelings and moods.
Sometimes I think it is not possible to define art or painting. As with prime numbers, which are only divisible by themselves and units, art and painting have no definition other than their own exposure to gaze and silence.
Nuria Vidal‘s presence in Diario de Estilo stems from her invitation this year, for the second time in a row, to the Mostra Espanha 2021 (October to January), which is held in Portugal every two years, to show the reality and dynamism of the Spanish cultural industries. It is one of the rare initiatives that gives a good impression of politicians. Literally the entire Portuguese space for Spanish art and culture is nurtured, with a mirror image of Portugal in Spain.
The function room for Nuria Vidal will be in the Fundacao D. Luís I, on top of Cascais, dominating the port and the opening of the Tagus/Tejo, where so many Portuguese people set off to fulfil their dreams of exploration and conquest (a term that they, intelligently, rarely use). It is a fortunate location because of the proximity of Lisbon and the vitality of Cascais. In addition, it is in the good company of the ‘Casa das Histórias’, the very beautiful museum of Paula Rego designed by Eduardo Souto de Moura, and the ‘Boca do Inferno’, a bad dream carved by the wind and the sea on the rocks. Adding to the visit the evening attendance to a ‘tourada à antigua portuguesa’ (‘old-style Portuguese toasted bread’) – a genuine spectacle of the eighteenth century -, after dining a ‘arroz caldoso de marisco’ (‘rice seafood broth’), between clarinets and paso-dobles, cavaleiros and forcats, has its appeal.
“I have built castles in the air that are so beautiful that I settle for their ruins,” Jules Renard wrote.