Iokanaan II

Early last year, I returned to an obsession with the biblical story of Salome. An obsession that lasted since 2018. But when I produced the first painting on the subject, I let myself be seduced by the namesake of Oscar Wilde's play. I believe that, in a sense, I was more the play's Herod than John the Baptist. The result was some delight in the process, but an enormous frustration with the result. Call it "post-coital depression".

As this year began, I decided to take up the subject once again, focused this time on the character that most interested me conceptually: Iokanaan, or John the Baptist.

I was more satisfied with this result. It was simpler, more direct. The few days I spent at Rodolpho Parigi's studio, along with excellent artists like Marjo Mizumoto and Douglas de Souza were the wake-up call I needed to realize that my painting skills could be greatly improved. I still think I can go even further, with greater practice and patience. But I already loved the "level up".

An interesting thought occurred to me while I was making this one. There were three stages. The first one, the portrait, demanded greater precision. A millimeter to the side in a random detail and the identity of the sitter (my brother João Leão) is lost. The second stage, the silver platter, was looser. Metal has a logic to it that can be understood and followed, keeping its characteristics even with some alterations on my behalf. The third stage, the blood, was even more chaotic and had a more subjective logic. That's perhaps why it took a while to finish this detail. Often times a part of this amorphous thing stopped looking like blood and I couldn't understand why. I still feel I could improve it further, make it look less "painterly". But if I didn't consider the painting done, I would just go on retouching that blood endlessly. Time to move on.

And perhaps finally put the subject of Salome and Iokanaan to rest.

Iokanaan II

April 2022

Oil on recycled cardboard

48 x 36 cm

This painting was exhibited in a few occasions. It always drew some attention when seen up close, receiving some purchase offers from interested parties. I never sold it. I wanted to give it to my brother as a sort of homage to him, the more spiritual of us both. But of course, gifting him with a rendition of his severed head seemed like a really poor taste in gifting, even if the story, the process and the personal meaning of this painting were really nice.

As an attempt to please potential buyers, I tried reproducing the painting in screen print and selling a small edition of 10 copies. But obviously, the screen print loses some of the material quality of a painting. It does provide the image with other interesting graphic traits. But that visual quality - the colors, the brushwork, the materiality - which so captivated collectors isn't there. As a product, these silkscreen copies are of a far poorer quality. After all, I hadn't done any serious screen printing since I left college twenty years prior.