User:Renato de Almeida
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'Bold text'RENATO DE ALMEIDA (1921-1980) [1]
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Distinguished Brazilian painter, Renato de Almeida was born in Juiz de Fora, Minas Gerais, on June 08th, 1921.
He was awarded an Honorable Mention (year of 1949) and Silver Medal (1956) both by the National Museum of Fine Arts (Rio de Janeiro/Brazil) for his works "Football match", " Portray of painter Gil " and " Landscape ".
In 1960 he moved to Rio de Janeiro. This choice was based on his needs of living in a bigger universe of artists, so that he could give easier expansion to his art.
Besides being an excellent painter, Renato de Almeida played the guitar with uncommon ability. But he stated that the music only represented a resting moment in his life.
He died on March 31th, 1980, at the age of 58, in consequence of a running over in Juiz de Fora, where he was preparing the opening of an exhibition.
Renato de Almeida was an authentic representative of the natural elite. He came to life, exclusively, with the talents and the gift that God gave him. He didn't bury his talent, on the contrary, he made it fructify by continuous effort. By study. By the devotion to his Art. He only lived for it. His personal achievements were built day by day in painting and in music.
Renato de Almeida possessed, as few, the intimacy with colors. They live together in his pictures, without conflicts, without disagreements, as true friends.
" WHAT I THINK ABOUT PAINTING "'
(Renato de Almeida)
" When I first started on painting, in a city and at a time of few incentives, I carried that need for painting as a curse that got on my way making difficult to earn everyday bread.
I felt that the art was a lover that demanded everything and promised nothing. In spite of that, or perhaps because of that, I easily embraced her but to carry her with difficulty. To serve her, got a job in another activity, becoming a little slave as man, even so, very free as painter.
After this, it is worth to remember the answer I gave to Paschoal Carlos Magno when he asked me whom I had studied with. I answered that when I needed a teacher, I didn't have one, and when I could have one I didn't need it. A good teacher, perhaps could have shortened the road. But, in compensation, I walked with my own forces, serving me from everything in general, but from nothing in particular, what brought something very personal in my work.
If I am not mistaken, the writers are the ones that most see literature on painting; and the painters, maybe by professional deformation, see the painting first. When a painter sees a horse he thinks of painting it, not in riding it ; he thinks of using the horse to create painting. For this reason, Goethe already said: " The art is art because it is not nature ".
I don't believe that a painter - I am speaking about the ones that do have real need to paint, not about the ones that can be always painting, but about the ones that cannot live without painting - sacrifices a true plastic in favor of other truth. The need to manifest his ideas as a painter, prevails over the elements that have been utilized as means to reach his objectives. It is probable that the fear of the literature in the painting forces us to be more like writers than painters, we tend to do what we more hate.
There are different truths, mine, yours and the truth itself, nevertheless, I think we must be aware of everything that is happening in art, mainly in painting. To visit museums, to see old and modern works as much as possible, to acquire knowledge of every "ism". But when one paints, he must be faithful to himself, nor master nor slave; to drive and to be driven; to give two or two thousand brushstrokes on a picture, it doesn't matter, what should not be done is to commit the sin of excess or lack. Let things happen, therefore each painter has inside of himself an alarm that works in agreement with his needs, that separates the wheat from the chaff.
The search for wisdom can take us to serve a wrong God. I have the impression that, in a general way, the artist today wants to be a Christ, not a Christian; he wants to be a reformer, not a follower, and that lack of humility hinders his passage through the door of the art, that as the one to the heaven, is narrow and low.
When Beethoven censored an Archduke for using serial thirds in his music, the Archduke replied that Beethoven also used them, to what Beethoven answered:
-I can, you don't.
A student asks his old Italian master:
-Master, may I paint as I see?
-Yes, answers the master, inasmuch as you don't see as you paint.
With this I mean that few want to pass through the sieve as students, most want to tear it as geniuses, burning stages, forgetting that time destroys what is done without it. This unconsciousness makes them sacrifice the artistic proportion. We should do the sun out of a blot, and not out of the sun a blot; we can do theater out of swearwords, but not out of theater a swearword.
I finish here, completely unworried if I was, in these considerations, more painter than writer, in the same way that when I paint I am not worried if I am being more writer than painter, or else, neither do I write, nor do I paint.
It is still opportune to remind the story of an old man who was questioned by his grandson:
- Grandpa, when do you sleep, does your beard stay under or over the blanket?
And, at night, the old man, that until then had not thought the matter, began to throw the beard under and over the blanket. He ended up cutting it off. "
Renato de Almeida
