Santiago de Compostela

Antonio Murado

Centro Galego de Arte Contemporanea

Before a landscape painting, we ask ourselves, “Looking at this, what do I feel?” This question is inherited from the traditional manner of contemplating a painting, but it also comes to us from the culturally determined manner of experiencing a landscape—that is, under the aegis of such philosophical categories as the sublime.

On first seeing Antonio Murado’s recent landscape paintings, I asked myself, rather, “Where have I had this feeling before?” Images of real, filmic, and pictorial landscapes ran through my mind, many of them similar to those that in childhood were nurtured by reading accounts of the voyages of polar explorers or by gazing at a map of Antarctica like the one the artist’s brother Miguel-Anxo drew and hung on the wall of his bedroom, as we learn from the catalogue. But then I remembered a text by Sergei Medvedev, “The Blank Space” (2000), in which the Russian essayist

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