The Light of Darkness

As a child, I used to close my eyes and see scenes, moments lived or imagined. I would focus and manage to visualize specific scenes, people... but it was not the portrait-like vision that interested me; rather, it was the sensation that came from reproducing the experienced situation. This is how I began to discover another reality, the one beyond what was seen, reaching what was felt. I came to painting due to family circumstances. It did not take me long to understand that art was about concept, much more than skill or virtuosity, as many people believed.

I arrived at black through gray and its immense range. Perhaps transitioning from gray to black is not solely a matter of light; perhaps—and this is an internal debate—it is about feeling before the light or after the light, or rather, beyond the light. One could even say, within the origin of light. It is not only the concept of post-war times that were gray and black, but the real vision of the city, its aura often framed by specific events: a seminarian’s course, a funeral, or a space affected by restrictions. I remember the tar used by road workers who, with that jet of thick black liquid—just as snow does—unified a space. From there may come my work, centered on various sensations and concerns, which I sought to delve into and enter. I wanted to domesticate the material, to organize it, and to delve into the depths of many sensations or situations, as if scanning a day or a conversation and configuring it as if it were the representation of a landscape, a portrait, or perhaps the state of the country.

I recall the moment of rupture in my early path, which surely would have led me to Physics—a field that still fascinates me today, which I understand as a demonstrable philosophy. A family incident changed my destiny and many circumstances of my life at that time. It became too difficult to follow a path in an environment filled with insinuations, slogans, and whispers. Around the age of fifteen, tired of enduring, I veered away from my previous path to embark on another, a period of searching. In that situation, I was fortunate to have some family friends and family members who allowed me to find a way to distance myself from a certain understanding of art, in which I had a precedent—my uncle Agustí, a watercolorist.

I joined a project for applied arts production in the field of ceramics and electrochemistry with family friends. Curiously, it became my experimental laboratory, where I learned many things that today are an integral part of my craft. Being accustomed from a young age to reading and studying, I absorbed many publications on art and its history, as well as catalogs and books on what was being created abroad, which greatly interested me. I experienced the debate between copying reality and not doing so, which was often seen as negation. Caught between two waters, I resisted, and at the first opportunity, I stepped away from those paths and began to grow in other directions.

From a series dedicated to Girona, its first consequences were writings resembling laments or cries, closely linked to the political struggle against the dictatorship. The cries, letters, texts... were blurred, as if they had to go unnoticed or evade censorship, which indeed happened around 1974 in Catalunya Square in Girona, during a contemporary art gathering. My work, ‘La primera lliçó de català’ (The First Catalan Lesson), along with others, led to our arrest and interrogation. That may have placed me in a darkness that resonated with many of my aesthetic inclinations, which I began incorporating into my works. Around 1976–77, the first black paintings with white texts appeared. They featured carefully crafted black surfaces, achieved through up to 17 layers of glazing to obtain a dead matte black, with calligraphy inspired by my years at the Marist school. I composed columns or lines of white texts, balanced and arranged in a constructivist manner. 

I believe I would belong to the synthesis of the avant-garde, with an obsessive idea of mastering space and elements, as well as material. This led to black glossy dots on matte black, separated by a line that kept them apart. This line became significant in my work, leading to ‘Negre sobre negre’ (Black on Black), a piece for the Ballet, and the Horizon Line series, where dots were numbered in various ways and transitioned from compact surfaces to formations primarily shaped as circles and spirals.

From structures and constructions, crosses emerged, inspired by Malevich, a painter I have studied extensively and find truly fascinating. Crosses opened many possibilities, and in some, I introduced color and collage—a step further in my work. Calligraphies, dots, horizon lines, and crosses—four themes that remain conceptually alive. Over time, sutures have been added, thanks to the reflections of Enrico Bellati, who saw in my work a progression beyond Lucio Fontana’s, where cuts in his spatial concept suggested to Bellati that I was conceptualizing sutures.

Thus, in summary, five fundamental themes have evolved over the years and have been conceptually placed within time. I would not be far from minimalism or the simplicity of Arte Povera, but with evolutions that allow me to go further.

The question of why black is often asked. Time has brought me new insights. Initially, I positioned myself beyond the theory of representation based on the Renaissance’s light-perspective dialectic, moving towards the reality of non-light (black) as the foundation of energy. Perhaps I need to delve deeper into this. Art is concept above all else, and its materialization is what transforms it into a presence beyond representation, whatever that may be. A presence is a mirror where reflection has no color but essence, leading us to feel various sensations, even indifference. When a painting is presence, many hidden or unknown reflections are revealed. At its core, it is a scanner or a non-organ within us, from the brain to the feet, that gazes far, perceives all murmurs—from harmonious to disharmonious—smells scents beyond perfume, and also exalts touch, immersing us in the extraordinary world of textures.

Black, as the foundation of energy, as an element of contraction of color and light—or rather, non-light—where neither distances nor depths are detectable, yet are present. My work often configures dialectics between various backgrounds or textures of black. I do not seek to create a monochrome but rather, beyond color, to reach the suggestive power of concept as a language that affirms presence. If a connection with the viewer occurs, it can unlock various ideas, thoughts, or reserved internal perceptions, opening new visions. It must be understood that in my work, there is an obsession with achieving the utmost precision in execution so that the painted surface appears, as I have often said, like a space covered by snow that harmonizes—in my case, in black. Black requires the layering of multiple glazes to nuance all elements and textures into a chromatic unity that seems natural. Aware of evolution, I continue incorporating elements that bring me closer to what I aim to achieve. For example, the dot series began with systematically applied paint layers, evolved into rubber Pirelli pavements, then transformed into systematically inserted needles, and has now reached LEDs, which can have a life of their own, each with an image capable of forming true visions of visual reality.

I always seek to bring all my themes to a certain dimension. Perhaps some will merge into others, forming a new unity. One must keep in mind that painting is a matter of mind and concept, like all art, but in painting, a single surface must contain the entire order and grandeur of the universe. Through black, I attempt to suggest the materialization of light as a personal contribution beyond reality.

Jamuary 2025, Girona Spain. Enric Ansesa