:01:07
"Past the age of fifty, Velasquez
stopped painting definite things.
:01:12
He hovered around objects
with the air, with twilight,
:01:16
catching in his shadows
and airy backgrounds...
:01:19
the palpitations of colour...
:01:21
which formed the invisible core
of his silent symphony.
:01:26
Henceforth, he captured only...
:01:28
those mysterious interpenetrations
of shape and tone that form a constant,
:01:33
secret progression,
:01:36
neither betrayed nor interrupted
by any jolt or jar.
:01:42
Space reigns supreme.
:01:44
It is as if an aerial wave,
sliding over the surfaces,
:01:48
soaked up their visible emanations,
defined and modeled them,
:01:52
then spread them about like a perfume,
:01:55
an echo of themselves,
:01:58
a scattering of impalpable dust.
:02:03
The world he lived in
was one of sadness:
:02:06
a degenerate king, sickly infantes,
:02:10
idiots, dwarfs, cripples,
:02:14
a handful of clownish freaks
dressed up as princes,
:02:17
whose function it was
to laugh at themselves...
:02:20
and to amuse a cast
that lived outside the law,
:02:24
in the meshes of etiquette,
plots and lies,
:02:28
bound by the confessional and remorse,
:02:32
with the inquisition
and silence at the door."
:02:39
Listen to this, little girl!
:02:44
"A spirit of nostalgia pervades his work,
yet he avoids what is ugly, sad,
:02:49
or cruelly morbid
about those oppressed children.
:02:55
Velasquez is the painter of evening,
:02:58
of open spaces and of silence,