Mompó’s work is predicated on a search for the minimum expression required to communicate, and in his own words “when painting, I never felt the need to use materials like sand, wood, , thick impastos of colour, or things like that. I am more inclined to express things with as little as possible.” This philosophy applies to his whole practice and not just his painting, as one can readily appreciate in his work on paper, like the case of this lithograph, or indeed in his sculptures from the eighties.

The artist from Valencia was at the height of his career at the end of the sixties, having exhibited at Galerie Claude Bernard in Paris in 1966 and having received the UNESCO Prize in 1968 at the 34th Venice Biennale, where he exhibited a seminal body of work at the Spanish pavilion.

At this juncture in his career, Mompó started to act as both painter and poet, combining both languages to masterful effect. As the artist explained, “sometimes when I paint I need to add words or phrases that help me to voice a protest or to sing the praises of life.” So, for instance, in the work at hand, we can read the following phrases interspersed over the surface: Sombras limpias de siluetas respirando (clean shadows of breathing silhouettes), viento en la cara (wind in the face), con amor (with love), también hoy respiro (today too I breathe), hablo para que suene (I speak to make a sound).

Here his personal iconography is deployed alongside the written word in perfect harmony, advocating a yearned-for communication: hablo para que suene (I speak to make a sound). These forms are given their best expression on paper, making the most of the whiteness of the support to hover ethereally over the paper with their desire to breathe, to communicate, and perhaps to question a society that needed to wake up to a new vanguard and to greater creative freedom.