This site uses cookies.
Some of these cookies are essential to the operation of the site,
while others help to improve your experience by providing insights into how the site is being used.
For more information, please see the ProZ.com privacy policy.
This person has a SecurePRO™ card. Because this person is not a ProZ.com Plus subscriber, to view his or her SecurePRO™ card you must be a ProZ.com Business member or Plus subscriber.
Affiliations
This person is not affiliated with any business or Blue Board record at ProZ.com.
Spanish to English: Portrait of a Sculptor General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Art, Arts & Crafts, Painting
Source text - Spanish NOTA - limite de 500 palabras
Retratos de un escultor y otras esculturas de viaje.
La famosa cita de Barnett Newman en los años cincuenta: “La escultura es aquello con lo que tropiezas cuando retrocedes para mirar un cuadro”, fue lo primero que me vino a la cabeza, al ver Vir heroicus sublimis en el MoMa, un cuadro monocromo rojo, de enormes proporciones, con cinco finas líneas verticales que lo atravesaban de arriba abajo. Ese gran formato, permitía evitar el fondo cuando lo mirabas, todo era pintura, y en ese sentido, tal vez su afirmación –me refiero a la segunda parte: “cuando retrocedes para ver un cuadro”– tenía cierta razón de ser. Abarcar el cuadro completo con la mirada, dado su tamaño, exigía cierta distancia, pero a mi me gustaba ver los cuadros de cerca: la textura de la pintura, la del lienzo, el grosor de las capas en los cantos, las direcciones de las pinceladas, las pequeñas imperfecciones…
Al aproximarme tanto a los cuadros no hacía otra cosa, aparte de molestar al resto de los espectadores, que seguir las indicaciones de Ortega y Gasset en “Sobre el punto de vista en las artes” en el que afirmaba que “la visión próxima tiene un carácter táctil (…) Es suficiente que advirtamos esa densidad casi táctil que el rayo ocular tiene y le permite, en efecto, abrazar, palpar (…) A medida que el objeto se aleja, la mirada pierde su virtud de mano y se va haciendo pura visión.”
Pensé que ese tipo de mirada, era la del escultor y así alterar jocosamente la frase de Newman diciendo: “Un escultor es aquello con lo que te tropiezas cuando avanzas para ver un cuadro”.
Al día siguiente fuimos al MET, después de dar un paseo por Central Park. Quería ver el retrato que Paolo Veronese le había hecho a Alessandro Vittoria con una estatuilla de San Sebastián, que abrazaba orgulloso.
Tardamos un buen rato en encontrar el Veronese. Al fin, al lograr localizarlo, le pedí a mi hija que me prestase la cámara para hacer una foto. Disparé, la miré y vi entonces más de una docena en las que yo aparecía de espaldas delante de los cuadros que habíamos estado viendo el día anterior.
Me imaginé la escena. Yo, abriéndome paso a codazos entre los visitantes ante su más absoluto asombro, mientras que Carmen, a mis espaldas, les pedía agitando un brazo que se apartasen. Sonreí imaginando esa acción tan rocambolesca y le escribí a Natalia Fernández Granell para contárselo. Me respondió, casi al momento, adjuntándome una carta de Eugenio Granell a José Rubio Barcia en abril de 1961, en el que le relataba su experiencia en la visita, en esos días, a varias exposiciones en Nueva York. Decía lo siguiente:
“Hace días fuimos mi mujer y yo a ver un par de museos y exposiciones. Bueno. No se puede ver nada. Entre el metro y los museos no hay diferencia alguna.
Solo puedes ver pequeños fragmentos de cuadros, de tanta gente como se pone delante. Menos mal que, yendo dos, uno le puede explicar al otro lo que ve por su cuenta (…)”
Ambos nos reímos con aquella coincidencia. Y tras ese suceso, me ofreció la posibilidad de exponerlas en la Fundación Granell, en Santiago de Compostela. Acepté su propuesta, e intenté darle forma, a lo que en principio había sido un juego.
Translation - English [Note - This project, including the title, came with a strict limit of 500 words, imposed by the magazine for which it was being translated. The final word count is 498.]
The famous words of Barnett Newman, "Sculpture is what you bump into when you back up to see a painting", came to mind on seeing Vir heroicus sublimis in the MoMa - a monochrome red canvas, of enormous proportions, with five fine lines running from top to bottom. This large format allowed viewers to avoid the background - everything was paint; and in this sense, perhaps Newman's quote was somehow merited. To encompass the whole painting within your gaze called for a certain distance, whereas I preferred to see the works up-close; the texture of the paint and canvas, the thickness of the layers, the direction of the strokes, the small imperfections …
All I achieved in getting so close to the paintings, apart from irritating other viewers, was to represent Ortega y Gasset's claim in "On Point of View in the Arts", that "proximate vision has a tactile quality (...) such that we notice our ocular ray's quasi-tactile density, and that we permit it to embrace, to palpitate (...). As the object is withdrawn, the gaze loses its tactile power and gradually becomes pure vision."
Thinking this gaze must be that of the sculptor, I tweaked Newman's sentence to say: "A sculptor is what you bump into when you step forward to see a painting".
The next day we went to the MET. I wanted to see Paolo Veronese's portrait of Alessandro Vittoria proudly embracing a statuette of San Sebastián.
It took us quite a while to find the Veronese. When we did, I asked my daughter to lend me her camera for a photo. I took my shot, looked at the camera, and saw in the gallery more than a dozen photos in which I appeared with my back to the camera, in front of the paintings of the day before.
I imagined the scene. Me barging my way through astonished gallery visitors, while Carmen, behind, shook them by the arm, asking them to make space. I smiled imagining this far-fetched scene, and wrote to Natalia Fernández Granell to tell her about it. She replied, almost instantly, attaching a letter from Eugenio Granell (writing to José Rubio Barcia in April 1961) in which he recounts his experiences visiting various New York exhibitions of the day. He had said the following:
"A few days ago my wife and I went to see a couple of galleries and exhibitions. Well. You can't see a thing. There's no difference at all between the metro and the galleries. You can only see little fragments of paintings for the throng that stands right in front of them. At least, there being two of us, each could explain to the other what we were seeing (…)"
We both laughed over the coincidence, and, following this, she offered me the opportunity to exhibit the photos in the Granell Foundation in Santiago de Compostela. I accepted her proposal, and began to give shape to what had initially been a game.
More
Less
Experience
Years of experience: 6. Registered at ProZ.com: Feb 2020.
Stylistically
flexible according to client demands, due to extensive experience in
both scientific/informational writing and expressive cultural
promotion.
Dedicated
to consultation, feedback and review processes with clients,
including face-to-face meetings when working locally.
Nine
years of experience writing
in the fields of cuisine, artistic
promotion and cultural events
for central Edinburgh venues.
Five
years of experience in scientific writing and editing
through MA in Psychology from Saint
Andrews University.
CELTA
qualification through Cambridge English,
with two years of experience teaching formal English at high levels
of proficiency.
Keywords: art, music, concerts, psychology, social sciences, food and drink, cuisine, dining, tourism, travel
Expertise