I visited Miami in 2005 for the Calle de Ocho festivities. I met a handsome boy. We went to the Miami Art Museum in Downtown Miami and then visited an art gallery in Little Havana.
On our Miami Art-walk, an artist series collection captivated “my” attention. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I fell madly in love with the artist series, but not the young man that I was with. I had a lustful infatuation for the young Don, but it was the male artist collection in the Little Havana art gallery that moved my passion for discovering artistic creativity and intellectual thought. There are just certain things in my life that is more stimulating than being wooed by a young Latin male lover from Cuba…as it were.
The work of Niels Moleiros translates into a poetic overturn of some fundamental feelings and sensations in the life of almost all human beings. The solitude expressed by the artist encounters the human condition or what the artist describes as “the man of conscience“. For example, the author Ernest Hemingway once wrote about “the man of conscience”. The most proper attribution for Niels Moleiros man (or woman as seen from the artwork) of “conscience” would be Joseph Campbell’s theory on self-discovery interviewed in “The Hero’s Journey” with Bill Moyers.
The conscience of the “Self” illuminates the evolutionary stages human beings can identify: abandoning ourself from others, facing death out of desire for change, finding our true selves. Catholic teaching holds that “man has the right to act according to his conscience and in freedom so as personally to make moral decisions”–to do good and to avoid evil. The moment at which we’re undressed (nakedness), the cultural coercion that usually accompany us or rather shelter us in an interior, we realize that our skin are after the skin of another (acceptance).
Niels art is a world plagued with solitude that people fear to confess out in the open and often hurts us by revealing our vulnerabilities that are subject to public stigma and criticism. Rarely those moments of solitude are abandonment and isolation imposed on us by ourselves or by others. Seldom does the forced solitude or voluntary confinement calls our attention on a panorama of distances within our relationships. There is no limitation to the work of this artist metaphors on solitude, isolation, and confinement.
Niels Moleiros has completed a series, a set of artwork my philosophical muse calls Desnudez de la Conciencia (Nakedness of Conscience). I’ve long forgotten the name of the actual series, but I vividly remember the conversation from my Latin lover using the exact words “desnuda a conciencia” that “the sensual nakedness of a woman” appeals to him. Despite the sensual feminine naked archetype, the artist used one excessively important metaphor to remember about “saving the distances”: the metaphysical painting in that game of representation between the architecture and the almost surreal presence of the human figure in them. Nevertheless, Desnudez de la Conciencia shows us a suggestive and symbiosis of the artistic genre. A matter of fact observation, the substance of human presence conjugated harmony is in the composition with the visual preeminence of the bottom of solitude and architectural landscapes of the same visual appearance of solitude.
NIELS MOLEIROS [4 0f 7 Images in the series]
The virtuosity of the hyper-realist detail in the work builds each precious segment of the wall—a brick that cracks in the wall of our imagination, where the women seduces us with the abandonment of her nakedness. These images are women without faces. They are always hidden after the poses she makes possible or the protagonist curves remains hidden–where the hair covers her face and parts of her body. Those are images of several women, perhaps hurt, shamed, abandoned, isolated, and exposed to voluntary solitude. Those images are perhaps simply conducive to an amiable and tempting reading of women who aren’t even conscious of their own beauty and power of seduction. It magnifies the quota of naiveté, before the impudent glance of a spectator or before a dazzled voyeur with the images which they give.
The images are exquisite with the naked natural fullness of a feminine woman, which cannot give capacity to indifference. Those images demands to find possibly hundreds of histories and narrations and anecdotes that recreates the profound sentiment-testimony of sometimes prohibited relations, other times uncompleted, but always viewed. In the end, we cannot let the nakedness of our conscience affect us before which we can dominate bravely.