Lucio Muñoz

(Madrid, 1929 – 1998)

Untitled

1970

collage on paper

43,7 x 29,1 cm

Inv. no. 36811

BBVA Collection Spain


The inward looking approach and the liveliness exuded by his works earned Lucio Muñoz an enviable reputation as an artist both in Spain and internationally.

Although in his early phase his profound admiration for the Swiss master Paul Klee (1879-1940) drew him towards
, after enrolling at the San Fernando School of Fine Arts in Madrid he came into contact with the major exponents of the Madrid school of realism, most notably Antonio López (1936), Carmen Laffón (1934), Julio López Hernández (1930) and Amalia Avia (1930-2011), whom Muñoz married in 1960. Apart from a close friendship, he shared with all of them a liking for everyday scenes as a means of commenting on the passing of time.

When he moved to Paris with a scholarship from the French government he was able to further his training and get in touch with the
 
movement which he quickly embraced and then introduced in Spain precisely at the moment when the El Paso group was being created. In the 1950s, while still in Paris, he introduced wood as a vehicle for his expression, working it in very different forms and textures.

This
on paper, together with the other six in the BBVA Collection, is part of a series of originals dated in 1969-70 that the artist probably made as preparatory models for a portfolio of silkscreen prints in homage to his friend and master, the painter and poet Eduardo Chicharro (1905-1964), one of the major exponents of the movement known as
.

In this interesting work the artist transcribes the last lines of Chicharro, or Chebé as he was known to his closest friends, from the Letter to Lucio and Amalia he dedicated to them when he was still alive. Muñoz enters into a dialogue with his dead friend: “Eduardo, can you hear me…? It is the numb soul of the birds that are dying on us from the cold.” These are some of the lines included in that letter:

                      
  (…) Can’t you hear, Count Lucio?
                        Or can’t you perceive, diaphanous Amalia
                        The hollow voice of the kettledrums
                        The double purring of cornamuses and tame cats?
                        Don’t you both sense bells, lutes?
                        Or their inaudible pealing?
                        They are the faltering shrapnel of faded lives.
                        The nonsense of Justice
                        The Hosanna seagulls sing to the sun
                        It is the numb soul of the birds
                        That are dying on us from the cold (…)

Once again, he uses
 
to simulate motifs that could be the birds the poet is talking about, which seem to fly free over a triangular structure reminiscent of a bandstand or a gazebo.