the song of the light
by María Esther Ortiz
I play your mouth, with a finger the whole border your mouth...
The drainage (plata/gelatina) s.f.
If at some time, somebody made a beautiful woman feel, intemporal; única and alive under the light that discovers it, beyond their skin and step opens up toward other interior lights, and the landscape of a body is only more a frontier toward the mystery, a frontier that now seems to be more accessible, it is in this titled series of pictures
“Stories desnudos” that now opens up, book of bodies, in my table, while I write.
In so much, Carlucho, in spite of being considered among the first photographers who renewed the speech with the feminine body nude in the decade of the ´80, it renounces of the encasillamientos and it clarifies that the topic is an area or area more than its work.
And it is certain. Only in this area he opened, next to photographer Juan José Vidal and several new artists
, this kind of speech in the contemporary Cuban picture of the last twenty years.
In other series and fotogramas, will approach other matters, with the same sense of transcendency, intemporalidad, universality.
But in their nudes there is humanity's essence, of that solitary person that, if it was dressed, he would maybe think of another matter, it would feel other emotions, it would be surrounded by others that we would not see to be outside of the field of the picture...
as long as that that seated woman before a window, naked, reveals us something more than the voyeur's simple and erotic vision:
all the transcendency, the reflection, the interior life, superbly guided by the artist toward that state of intense dramatismo where the model reaches, with a gestualidad deeply studied and directed, a intense melancholy; that instant that the artist could only express using of a very precise técnic:
The paradoxes of the art that reiterate the vital paradoxes in this game of lights and shades where I miss a picture where he sees the light collapse in the reflection of the veins and the body hair of the back of your hands and perhaps remember something that could happen, how to want to have a picture of your hands or a place where to hang of the walls those pictures that don't exist, or some walls...
And then, when returning toward the table, it is possible to look at that instant in that the light-woman leaves toward the light-atmosphere, the journey of an allegory, of something as light as a memory that she comes us in the moment in that somebody stops us calling us perentoriamente and we could only peek, to feel that we have remembered something beloved, calm and that we have forgotten it with that volatility that the art will only be able to us to return in a picture that the artist titles
“ then you leave.”
Or the brief metaphor of a haiku in “The drainage”, torso of alive stone, stony life and for design, feminine.
Carlucho (Carlos Vega:
Cardenas , Matanzas, Cuba, February 14 1940) it begins to photograph professionally at the end of the decade of the ’60.
In the following decade he already obtains the recognition a their searches in the artistic picture
 and starting from the years ’80 it consolidates a work that has been recognized national and internationally.
Member of the UNEAC, their participation in personal and collective exhibitions and the diverse obtained prizes endorse the aesthetic speech of a creator that has been interested in diverse topics and that he has given me in a collection of images that testify him, a leiv motiv:
the fellow's singularity.
The artist's collection, with unique works and series on different topics, expressed the domain in the game of the light, the shades, the reflections, the rich ranges of the gray ones, the intense fidelity to the picture in white and black and a poetic of brief and deep relationships that identify a personal style, recognizable in the picture of an instant of surprised spontaneity or in the functional composition of a study.
At some time I have looked in your hands this game of lights and shades skirting the fine bank of the veins, the reflection of the light in soft points on the body hair, the rested fingers, forgotten of yes...
some has been able to share all the lucidity, the attention, the intense wisdom of who knows how to look at something and to see it in their otredad, without being blinded with the image of their own thoughts projected outside of yes.
That form of looking that it transcends of these pictures of Carlucho and of those titles that accompany them, as small lights in their borders.