Between coffee and surrealism: the graphic work of Carlos Carmona

Almost every afternoon, Carlos Carmona leaves his house in the Almagro neighborhood and walks a few blocks to the Las Violetas confectionery. He doesn't have a favorite table, but whenever possible, he chooses a spot that allows him to appreciate the curved stained-glass windows of the main eaves above the door at the corner of Rivadavia and Medrano. He orders a freshly brewed coffee, perhaps a croissant. The waiters already know him. Then he takes a pad of drawing paper and a Rotring black ink pen out of his backpack. Before he begins to draw, he looks around as if it were his first time visiting the place.

The agile strokes of his sketch capture no detail: the gestures of the customers in conversation, someone reading a newspaper, the gait of the waiters carrying their trays, the cadence of the shapes of the tables and chairs, every decorative ornament of the traditional café. The straight lines of the columns and ceiling friezes mark the rhythm of a vibrant composition , executed with speed and precision, in which everything seems to be in motion. And beyond the inspired costumbrista snapshot, what is conveyed is the artist's emotion and pleasure in the act of drawing itself.

However, for Carmona, this is only the beginning. Barely a starting point to be returned to later in the tranquility of his studio. So he starts all over again: he takes up a blank sheet of paper again, this time with a heavier weight; he puts aside the fountain pen and switches to the quill pen . With a technical skill as elaborate as it is meticulous—even involving the aid of a magnifying glass—point by point he reconstructs the lines of the shapes noted during his visits to Las Violetas. And then the columns and friezes of the confectionery become the setting for fantastic episodes, sometimes festive , almost always sinister. There are ghost ships and strange articulated animals hovering over the tables; there are floating heads, stars, suns, mannequins, skeletons, and naked women; there are also quotations and tributes to art history. A surreal atmosphere , imagined in joyful dreams or disturbing nightmares, but which always evokes an undeniably Buenos Aires urban setting.

The entire poetic and technical repertoire of this Argentine graphic artist is now on display in the Central Newbery galleries. Curated by researcher Soledad Obeid , this anthological exhibition presents a selection of more than 60 pieces ranging from Carmona's first "serious" works from the 1980s to his most recent creations, some of them completed in recent months, as he approaches his 80th birthday. This is a long career for an artist who, from the very beginning , chose to wage his battle in the often marginalized field of drawing , which he explores with ease in different techniques and formats.

In the Chacarita gallery, the initial impact was caused by two large works worked in charcoal on wood, dated shortly after one of his first important recognitions, at the Salón Belgrano in 1984. During those years, Carmona and his partner Liliana Trotta frequented the studio of Aída Carballo – also located in Almagro – whom they considered their great teacher.

The influence of the engraver's urban style, somewhere between metaphysical and melancholic, is recognizable in these pieces, which are much more raw in their expressionism. Both "On the Street" and "Crucifixion" depict decidedly sinister situations, in keeping with the period's climate of terror , with dark beings in suits and bony old women surrounding the bodies of women frozen in terror. From this same period, we can also see somewhat suffocating interior scenes, featuring figures trying to maintain their balance on a floor of symmetrical, checkered tiles reminiscent of the terraces of Spilimbergo.

Much more cheerful, however, are the series of Caminantes (Walkers) , begun in the 1990s, such as the work with which he won the Grand Prize of Honor at the 1992 Drawing and Engraving Salon . By then, the oppressive spaces begin to open up and give way to the parade of Carmonean picturesque characters , now liberated through the streets, with pairs of lovers holding hands or strolling in retro strollers and buses, in a loving and detailed recreated city. In some cases, the uncluttered composition functions as a deliberate invitation to the viewer to join the procession.

In addition to these medium- and large-format works on wood and paper, Carmona's technical expertise also shines in the tiny scale of his subway ticket cartons (known as Subtepass), which the artist began drawing on in the 2000s. Since then, he estimates, he has painted some 1,500 portraits on these tickets, several of them printed with the date of their trip, which he incorporates as part of the ink composition. These miniatures once again intermingle anonymous faces from the street, imagined representations, and references to art history, from Leonardo to Picasso. It's worth taking the time to appreciate every detail.