Tag Archives: Poetry


“Les Toiles Caches” – The Exhibition

I know my dear friends, I left you with such an amazing collection and you have been waiting to see what was going to be of those magnificent pieces so here we are…The amazing collection certainly did not go unnoticed and so the exhibition takes place after the daunting task of finding the right gallery to display his work now. This was done by my mother Willy who one day went to the best gallery in Paris called Claude Bernard who loved the work and recommended her directly to another important gallery in Paris called Iolas, who thought this was the perfect compilation for a new gallery that was going to open its doors, directed by Jaqueline Passever, “niece of Giorgio De Chirico“, who instantly fell in love with Maron’s work and was very excited to do the exhibition. 

You can see the news paper ad for it above

the poster

Here is the front of the invitation above

And the back side

The text here was written by Alain Bosquet, beautifully describing what his paintings stirred within…below you can read the translated text, enjoy!

Young artists today go first to paroxysms. Some want to do without any work, any meditation, any interior sacrifice : they paint as if they were spreading jam on a slice of toast.  
From the moment their instinct falters, the viewer, the dupe, the other, has to be content with it.
Some, a little more audacious, intend to make a clean sweep: the canvas disturbs them,  color is their enemy, the notion of space exasperates them, replacing painting to the reign of matter, as if that at its raw state was a new value in itself. And at the other end of the horizon, some crash themselves before
the past, delayed imitators who are still making nudes, sunsets, fruit, landscapes more or less assassinated.
 It is under these conditions heartening to discover a young painter under thirty years, who does not fall into any of these exaggerations: Salvador Maron. 
The first impression is an incontestable know-how: This Spaniard from Canary Islands embodies – and it should not displease him to be told clearly – a respect to both himself, because he asks a lot of his talent, and others because he offers nothing that is not polished, worked, thoughtful, serious , definite.
This consciousness at the level of craft provides various forms, which don’t exclude virtuosity or a kind of philosophy of” trompe-l’oeil” renewed of the mannerist that followed the Renaissance.The prestige, he is not afraid to stress, as if he wants to challenge the general relaxation of painting, it can serve as an example.
Why would we be obfuscated by this panache, which permits him to be assertive? We feel soon enough seduced by his way, as if we went in a strange impulse of gaiety  but astonishment, check, by a finger, or prying eyes, the texture of his paintings. We resolve to the evidence: it is neither photography or collage, but pretty much brush work, meticulous removed at times caracoled, always superbe. Tromper l’oeil, precisely, is not the goal of Maron : mostly he flatters it, so as the pleasure be more acute. And who says pleasure, says need to dive back, to reflect, to question ourselves at length.
Then appears the unity of the inspiration. Behold a simple texture, knotted at its middle. Here is a material that seems to proclaim its right to existence as an independent object and no more utilitarian. Here an easel covered with  a sheet so as we guess  “wit a la Velazquez” – the painting on it. Here a curtain that lets – by a very calculated prudery – a glimpse  through a frame or a window.
Moreover here, a material negligently- but with lots of precaution- thrown over the night maybe as to conjure it. Here a display of velvet, with its folds, those wrinkled masses, ostensible gilded, don’t go without reminding such contemporary of Zurbaran, maybe Moro, or such contemporary of Tintoretto, perhaps Basan.
Here are, clinging to a panel, shreds: there was a storm, an earthquake, a big rape, a terrible drama in the whereabouts, sometimes prancing, always beautiful. 
To the challenge, is superimposed gradually the obsession. So many linens,cottons, silks, brocades, in form a baroque affirmation of the object, non the less suggest an invisible presence of man. There is a power that is hidden, sights that linger, loves ready to rip the sails. 
That is to say that the depth is not absent from these works. And a humor, we would like to say: smiling, light and ferocious at the same time- underlines many intentions that the painter hardly would want to show. After the materials, Maron will paint other subjects, other objects, other beings:
armed like he is, nothing should stop him to descend into the arena.

The artist standing by his work, looking sharp!

my brother walking the gallery and enjoying the work on the walls…LUCKY! ;)

This poster was displayed on the famous column in Paris where all the great artistic events are announced since the 19th Century.

Amongst the personalities that went to see his work we have The Rotschild’s, Karl Lagerfeld, Antonio Saura, Karel Appel, Leonor Fini, Franco Zeffirelli, Labisse, Christian Marquand to name a few but you get the idea, this was the “creme de la creme” of Paris. This was a big success indeed!

On the next episode we get to the reaction of the press and critics alike, stay tuned! Also to see more of this time and from my mother’s side CLICK HERE