“Fiesta”. Acrylic, 14”x11”. “It would not be until darkness had taken indisputable control over the land, until the flames of the bonfire created an unreal world of shadows, until tequila and mescal untied men from their somber selves.”
“Fiesta”. Acrílico, 14”x 11”. No sería hasta la oscuridad hubiese tomado un control indiscutible sobre la tierra, hasta que las llamas de la hoguera crearan un mundo irreal de sombras, hasta que el tequila y el mezcal unieran a los hombres en sus sombrías almas”.
While being a constitutive condition of human nature, love remains the incontrovertible premise of our suffering.
The pain of love is the affect that results from the brutal rupture of a bond that connects me to the person or to the thing that I love. This rupture, violent and sudden, immediately produces an internal pain experienced as a ripping of the soul, as a mute scream bursting from the entrails.
The more one loves, the more one suffers. We are dependent, “in the most dangerous way” in our love-object and we expose ourselves to “extreme suffering” when we lose it.
Dice Freud que “cuanto más ama uno, más sufre” para agregar luego: “Nunca estamos menos protegidos contra el sufrimiento que cuando amamos y nunca seremos más irremediablemente infelices que cuando hayamos perdido a la persona amada o su amor”
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