José Leonilson

Fortaleza, Brazil, 1957 - São Paulo, Brazil, 1993

          Leonilson was born in 1957 into a humble family in Fortaleza and used his first savings to start traveling the world. Fascinated by airplanes, ships and skyscrapers in big cities, he created his own language and an iconography that he repeats throughout his work. Leonilson's characters are, in general, small men without eyes or features whose figures are delimited by fine lines of minimalist energy. He is a fundamental member of the so-called 80's generation in Brazil and has made great friends in the art world, such as the artist Leda Catunda.

            In his works, Leonilson speaks, moves and occupies a space of his own construction. He walks the path of love and heartache: he doesn't need much to expose his broken heart. Sometimes, his works are simply a word: "liar", embroidered with thread stitches. In these pieces, the art always takes an autobiographical turn – it is a delicate chronicle born from his viscera. With a few brushstrokes or short stitches, he makes his way through the forest of his privacy, in an intimate act between himself and the viewer.

            Leonilson's emotions are palpable, exposed; we feel his thirst for life, his desire, his fears and, how even in a state of ecstasy, the most beautiful things in the world have their dark side. Language and words, pillars on which his world is built, lose their syntax, revealing an emotion that we did not even know existed. Unsurprisingly, his works do not use elaborated staging and are presented, most of the times, stripped, in austere assemblies, hanging from small nails on the wall.

            In 1993, Leonilson died of AIDS. In his last months of life, aware of his diagnosis and the short time he had, he continued to create works, each time smaller and more intimate. His works shrank with him, resources became scarcer and Leonilson sought to give the last stitches of life before being consumed by the virus. For many artists, their work, once completed, finds autonomy; Leonilson's pieces always return to him, to his story and make us return ourselves.