Happen, happen, enter and see. Fill inside. They are before teacher of the brush and the friendship, Leonardo – Leonardo Fernández- who belongs to the one who talks each other is the only and unrepeatable, because as he says another teacher, the teacher Alcantara, it is known of ancient that in Andalusia each one is each one, and Leonardo is one of them.
It takes to its linens the symphony of the colour, the beauty of the backstitches, the water drops that gush for the fruits or the perfume that there leave the roses – “half-open book that it is possible to read with the closed eyes”, called them Rilke, in the vase, when, spoiled, they have given us the best thing of himself. Leonardo marks differences with the inns of the XVIIth century, because his is a living nature that accompanies us, and that by force of seeing it every day is more ours; with the contemporaries because, in its pictures, also, it takes the light, the light of the south, the sacred light of the south.
Its evenings are long, nostalgie, evocative, like the ships that happen opposite to its house, because Leonardo has begun for neighbor to the Mediterranean for when he wants to lengthen the sight, a little more, only a little further on of the flowerpots of geraniums that fill the balcony of its house.
They are not before one more painter. Or, if they purify me, before one of the big ones that Malaga contributes to the history of the today painting. No. Leonardo is more. More enough. Leonardo is a synthesis of work and good taste of excelling itself himself, of the conscientious thing and of the detail that takes shape of the water drops that remind in its round, sensual, satiated grapes of juice and nectar. Leonardo’s painting is a dialogue between the spectator who approaches the picture and, after containing the respiration, with a sigh the soul, the exclamation escapes from him: God!
Leonardo Fernández comes now to Barcelona, to the city where “everything has been cooked and has been sewed”, the excellent modern city, the city of the avant-garden in the art with a pictorial sample that he amazes for its ripeness, for the perfection of lines, for its intimate sceneries… Happen, happen, enter, meditate, fill inside. They are not going to forget it.
The gallery opens also its doors so that the girls enter: the one that sees the down from the beach and, which savors the fresh watermelon, summer fruit seated in the poyete of ceramics; the seafood brought to the linen from the counter of the nineteenth-century House of the Guard in a Malaga that was and it is already not; or the lemons of Alora, half note and “quite closed”, that looks out of the window to think: do you wish? With the exquisiteness of the plate of soups perotas.
Happen, mediatate, fill. Of it is sure that they are not going to forget it.