Jesús Soto: El Poeta de la Ilusión Óptica.
ES, CULTURA No. 101
Today, on the 5th of June—birthdate of our monumental Venezuelan visual artist, Jesús Rafael Soto—I feel moved to share moments from his life. I’ll leave the deep investigations to the scholars, such as my dear friend and art critic Milagros Bello, who once met the Master in person and offered such an eloquent and precise analysis of his work that I remember hearing Soto himself say, at the Ascaso Art Gallery in Valencia (where a major solo show was being prepared in 1999, titled Soto 2000):
“Señora Milagros, I congratulate you—because not even I could analyze my work so precisely.”
At the crowded opening of that exhibition, a sublime moment remains etched in my memory: Alirio Díaz and Jesús Soto treating the audience to a mesmerizing concert of guitar and song.
I will always remember Jesús Soto, in part because of a deeply personal and near-traumatic event. One evening, during one of my many visits to the Ascaso Gallery in Valencia (Venezuela), I had the pleasure of sharing a lively evening with Soto, gallery directors Limari and Antonio, and others. Drinks, conversation, and Soto’s spontaneous singing filled the air. As usual, the evening ended with a fine dinner at a restaurant whose name escapes me. After an abundant meal and excellent wine, we said our goodbyes and I returned to my hotel.
That night, alone in my room at the Intercontinental Hotel in Valencia, I awoke abruptly, unable to breathe. In a panic, I jumped out of bed, gasping for air. Fortunately, my frantic movements allowed the reflux blocking my throat to clear, and I was able to breathe again. It was a traumatic experience I will never forget—and would not wish upon anyone. Let this be a caution: do not eat or drink heavily before bed.
Once recovered, I later reunited with Soto and Alirio Palacios in Caracas (2002) at the exhibition Dos hombres y un mismo río. Inspired, I proposed a tribute to Soto through Sociedad Civil Hijos del Parnaso, in collaboration with Sofía Imber, hosted at Galería DIMACA in Los Palos Grandes, Caracas.
To honor him, I modeled his face in clay from photographs and later cast it in bronze. On May 13, 2004, with the help of painter and artisan Héctor Heguini and other esteemed members of the art community, we unveiled the bronze portrait and presented Soto with the Premio Parnaso 2004 (Grand Masters Category). During the ceremony, I spoke these words:
“Maestro Soto, this homage is for you. We present to you in eternal bronze the image of your face, as a gesture of the admiration held by all Venezuelan artists.
Considering you are a profound student of movement,
That you continually seek to grasp the essence of reality,
That you have united art, philosophy, and science,
And that you understand art as a form of knowledge—
We bestow this humble award, declaring you A Poet of Optical Illusion.
You, a tenacious Venezuelan in Paris, found the place from which form, color, space, time, and movement emerge.
We welcome you as an Honorary Member of our society and hope always to count on your wisdom.
May the image of Apollo adorning this award accompany you nobly in the penetrable realm of your thoughts.”
I later learned that Soto returned to Paris with the bronze portrait in his luggage—and that on January 14, 2005, he left this world.
Some say he discovered Kinetic Art while flipping through a book, others while watching trees pass by from a train window. Some claim it was the moiré effect he noticed in iron railings as he walked past them.
Personally, I believe that Jesús Soto, son of violinist Luis Soto, was perhaps subconsciously inspired by music, by vibration—and by playing as a child with bits of wood and broken strings scattered around his humble home in Ciudad Bolívar, where he was born on June 5, 1923.
— Julio César Briceño Andrade
(Sculptor)
