ERNESTO BONATO
Text published in the book: Lugar, Tempo, Olhar: arte brasileira na França românica, by Anne Louyot, published by Ateliê Editorial, São Paulo, 2009.

As a child, I enjoyed three things: to draw, to listen to stories, and to observe nature; for example, the path created by ants or rainwater. I haven’t changed much. I believe it is very important to listen to stories, as well as to feel the charm of the simple, day-to-day, common things. We must pay attention in what surrounds us, to try this present.

To me drawing is a way to approach reality in a different way. It is more an instrument of approximation than one of representation. An instrument of knowledge. In reality, art itself does not interest me much. What interest me is being present, to reach a certain quality of presence. Sometimes, being present could mean simply to draw an image. And when we make and image, is it then a revelation? Or something completely new? It could be a little of both… Love for nature is the same as love for matter, for technique. Everything is interconnected. I choose my material, wood, metal, paper, and paint with a lot of care. I adapt form to matter. The wood is worked with a dry point end and penetrates the imagination. It is from this kind of exchange that transcendence is born. Work on the subject, theme, consists of creating situations that favor a shaper, broader perspective. The first moment if for the reconnaissance. The reconnaissance of yourself, the reconnaissance of the matter. Later, come the approximation, progressive, and rich in variations. The material image is born out of this work. It is a braid of the mental image with the pre-existing image in the matter, which emerges from resistance. Here, the paths of the spirit and the matter cross each other and they are so sinuous…

I don’t worry about “style”. I adapt my technique to my research. From my point of view, an artist should be able to amplify his/her field of experiences, take risks. To manage not to lock him/herself in a technique or form that will not allow him/her to meet new ones, to truly share. The perception becomes then incomplete without the act of sharing: the artist’s work should, on one hand, allow him/her to find a just measurement of the world, and on the other, to transmit to others the images that he/she has translated from that sensible experience. The artist is the one who witnesses. He/she cannot simply remain enchanted; he/she is here to announce the enchantment, for the enchantment to overflow. To affirm “how wonderful!”

The worth of the material image – its transcendental force – depends solely on the technique of the artist. This necessity is exemplified and is evident in music for example. However in art, this has been forgotten. In the end, what has become of technical practice? It is the availability for experience to become. This is why it is important to organized oneself, inside and outside, everyday. It is necessary to always be ready. This preparation, is certainly mental and spiritual, but also physical. Intelligence of the spirit does not substitute the intelligence of the body, and the latter should be exercised on a daily basis through gestures, through direct contact with matter. The artist the one who says: What depends on me must be first priority and always be ready. Ready for what? To welcome a revelation. Something recognizable, something that belongs very much to life, which is hidden. This revelation comes about on matter, through the work of the artist with matter and of course, there will be imperfections.

A work of art is created from the meeting of perfection with imperfection. However, what counts in undoubtedly the sentiment caused at who is looking at it. Art comes very frequently from this tension between the perfection of nature and the imperfection of its embodiment. This is why I am very sensitive with sacred art.

My encounter with Romanic art reinforced this conviction that art can be the crucible of a revelation, evoking recognition, and a reunion that puts the artist and the audience in a state of plentitude. The capitals of Anzy-le-Duc are and example of this. The sculptor of The Acrobat” reached this state of plentitude, he was completely present within himself and is present to this day. This capital allowed me to understand the existence of something that is truly shared between those who make it, from hand to hand. It is a different experience from the mystical or the intellectual. To me, it was much more emotional to study and recognize the different hands that worked the stones, some more nervous, others more calm, sweet, attentive.

Romanic art was – is – an act of discordance. Today, the art resembles a search for this discordance. It does not revel; it distorts, and seems proud of such discordance. Nevertheless, what is art that does not look to be perceived and seen by most? That does not search for harmony with its surroundings, natural and human?