Florez de Uria: against the wall

The city is an impenetrable wall, numb and sordid behind its outlines. The city is an impassable artwork, like the incessant clash of light day after day. A constant collision of debris, crushed, compacted, cleaned up and ready to be put into orbit or laid down on canvas. There are those who, thinking they are beginning to master it, stumble into their own farewell.

And they pile up stiff against the wall. And they never manage to cross it. Against the city wall the soldiers, the artists, burst open, rave and later decline. And at its feet they drill worlds into shape, recreating the origins of undressed forms. Only the wall marks their end. And the origin is run, in her washing, by another naked woman. Afterwards it simply carries on, for better or worse, resolved or unresolved, like forgotten diatribes of oil paint against the wall.

This suspicion comes up because I recognise that city wall in the artworks of Florez de Uria, and I could even pin down which city it is. His strokes, unmistakably Madrilenian, hold the architectural spirit of places I too have walked through. And he certainly knew, and knows, how to capture them. To take the nearest example, my walks have more than once ended up in squares very much like the one glimpsed in his artwork Desnivel. On certain afternoons I have met friends in a park like Incertidumbre. A particular street I always avoid, smelling of tar and asphalt, winds the same way the colours do in Vértigo. I have also slipped out once or twice, why not admit it, without leaving a tip in El laberinto de Carlota.

In Florez de Uria's abstraction realities have been fragmented, lines have been drawn in a direction other than the one they were meant to take. Transition comes apart completely in his narrative rhythms. No, it isn't lost, we know what the story is. The wall has been torn down and yet the wall is still there. And it goes on with its geometric atmosphere of imbalances, obeying the incorruptible law of nuance, it outlines, blurs, corrects and adds. One step back. Another vanishing point. Another perspective. There is still a mission to complete, a soldier's or an artist's. And there is still our walk, which always ends in doubts. And an autumn cat, and another cat with a guitar, this one for the winter. When day breaks over San Vicente at some careless moment, Remedios will still be waiting for her fate. Blue purgatory. And on this side, arrogant, unassailable, capricious and thoroughly Madrilenian, the city wall will go on collecting attempts among the paintings of Florez de Uría.

Born in Madrid in 1960, Florez de Uria is one of the great figures of current abstract expressionism in this country. His style, described by critics as a mixture of the fiercest expressionism and a subtle melancholy, makes him a painter whose personality is plain to see in every one of his artworks. What his forms and colours evoke is a delight for any viewer willing to interpret. Some of his pieces have been shown in various international and Spanish galleries, such as Sky Arts in Barcelona and the Eka & Moor Gallery in Madrid. His long and steady career in painting places him among the most highly regarded artists on the present Contemporary Art market scene.

Find out more about Florez de Uria and his artworks here!