quinta-feira, 4 de setembro de 2025
terça-feira, 26 de agosto de 2025
José Brito Santos: Wrestling with the World Through
Paint
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José
Brito doesn’t paint to decorate a wall. He paints to wrestle
with the world. His canvases don’t whisper or sit politely in the
background—they demand attention. With heavy black ink, glued fragments of
newspaper, and restless energy, his paintings carry the feeling of urgency, as
though they’ve been waiting decades to break through the surface. His work is
less about calm contemplation and more about confrontation—about facing the
chaos of modern life head-on. Standing before a Brito canvas isn’t like
admiring an object of beauty; it’s closer to being pulled into a vortex of
ideas, fragments, and histories all layered at once. Each piece feels like a
dialogue that refuses to resolve neatly. Brito doesn’t offer easy answers, but
he insists we wrestle with the same disorder that fuels his practice.
“C’est fou ce que le monde est beau” (“It’s crazy how beautiful the world
is”)—a phrase lifted from philosopher Yves Michaud—sets the stage for
reflecting on José Brito’s work. Michaud argues that contemporary art has lost
much of its transformative power, reduced instead to fleeting experiences and
sensations. He asks: how can we preserve the traces of those experiences once
they pass? His irony toward the modern obsession with beauty—plastic surgery,
consumer design, tattoos, curated aesthetics—feels relevant when considering
Brito. For Brito, beauty isn’t the goal. His canvases live in tension with it.
Brito’s chosen material—newspaper clippings—speaks volumes. Newsprint is
everyday, disposable, and fleeting. It carries the voices of the world:
headlines, gossip, ads, and commentary. By pasting these fragments onto his
canvases, Brito captures a snapshot of chaos, the clutter of modern
communication. But he doesn’t stop there. Over this layered ground, he applies
bold sweeps of black paint. Sometimes it obscures completely. Other times, it
veils and partially reveals the words beneath. In doing so, he doesn’t simply
silence those voices—he transforms them into another language.
The gesture is both destructive and constructive. Newspapers aim to inform,
but Brito treats them as raw material to question their authority. In his
hands, information becomes texture. Chaos becomes rhythm. The work is less
about transmitting facts and more about making us confront how information
shapes us.
There is also poetry in the process. Brito reorganizes the clutter of
newsprint into something strangely coherent. His paintings may appear chaotic
at first glance, but the rhythm of black against white, the layering of
fragments, creates a visual structure. This is where his sensitivity as an
artist shows: he knows how far to obscure, how much to leave visible, how to
balance silence and noise.
One might think of Fernando Pessoa’s short poem “Pobre Velha Música!…,” in
which the poet reflects on hearing an old tune and being overwhelmed by memory
and longing. Like Pessoa, Brito taps into something already ephemeral—the
fleeting images and words of a newspaper—and builds from it an echo, a reminder
that even what slips away carries weight.
In this sense, his art doesn’t aim to be timeless in the traditional sense.
It doesn’t try to stand apart from history or float above the present moment.
Instead, it plunges into it. Each piece is anchored to the raw material of its
time—the day’s headlines, the paper’s fragility, the urgency of newsprint ink.
Yet through his layering and reworking, Brito turns this ephemeral matter into
something that resists vanishing.
His style is rigorous. He doesn’t make concessions to prettiness or
commercial taste. Instead, his work insists on honesty, on reflecting a world
that is disordered and conflicted. That’s not to say it lacks beauty, but the
beauty is hard-won. It comes through in the rhythm of contrasts, the play of
shadow and revelation, the pulse of black against fragments of language.
Seen this way, José Brito Santos is less concerned with decoration and more
with testimony. His canvases testify to a world drowning in words and images,
where truth is slippery and chaos reigns. But rather than despair, he creates
art that holds that chaos together—art that transforms disorder into a kind of
visual poetry. His work challenges us to look harder, to feel the weight of the
fragments that make up our shared present, and to recognize in them both the
noise and the possibility of coherence.
Brito paints not to reassure us, but to
confront us. His art is, in the end, an insistence that even in the midst of
disorder, we must keep searching for meaning.
sábado, 2 de agosto de 2025
The Universe of Images and Words: An Exploration of José Brito’s Art and Philosophy
José de Brito’s Vision on Contemporary Communication
José de Brito perceives the spectacle of
contemporary communication as a chaotic blend of images and words. From this
chaos, he organizes his paintings, creating a relationship of tension between
the dark matter and the luminous fragments of color and words. The black spots
in his work represent the savagery and freedom, breaking away from preconceived
ideas and cultural conditioning. His work stands as a complete conquest of
style, connecting the social and the imaginary.
 |
His painting
explores communication between different layers of the psyche, connecting the
conscious with the unconscious, life with death, spirit with matter. Brito’s
work offers fragments of a dreamed reality that emerge into consciousness,
reflecting the powerful and maternal night from which all creativity and
transformation spring. These works embody the echoes of a world that is both
ancient and new, full of restless, unspoken words, and the aggressive longings
that strive for expression.
Maria Zambrano and the Spiritual Content of Life
Brito’s
paintings mirror the thoughts of Maria Zambrano, who described life’s spiritual
content as sensitive and fleeting, not representative. Zambrano believed it is
an intimacy with all life, not just human life. This sensitivity aligns with
Brito’s use of the night as the cradle of unspoken words and desires. The
painting embodies a place of creation, aggression, and the longing for light,
poised between life and its original, primal state.
 |
José Brito, técnica mista sobre tela, 65 x 81 cm, 2015
Artistic and Philosophical Reflections
Brito’s
paintings explore paradoxes and contradictions—fragments and ruins that offer
glimpses into a lost unity. This disunity and fragmentation are what make his
art resonate deeply, offering a timeless and intimate harmony. His work creates
a bridge between the material world and the spiritual, using the canvas as a
receptacle for a living chaos that reflects the complexity of contemporary
existence.
A Personal Artistic Approach
Brito uses
newspaper pages and collage techniques, reworking the printed word to represent
and reinterpret contemporary society. Through the manipulation of these
newspapers—often Portuguese—he transforms them into a new narrative,
constructing a visual language of illegible signs that mirror the reality of
the world. These pages evoke both personal memories and larger cultural
narratives, inviting viewers into a dialogue about the power of the press, media,
and historical context. Brito’s work questions the meaning of visual messages
and explores the significance of collage as a form of active, dynamic
expression.
Development and Theoretical Foundations
Brito began
experimenting with collage techniques in 1987, focusing on the use of printed
materials and photographs. Over time, this research has developed into a deeper
understanding of how images, once manipulated, can create new surfaces of
meaning. His artistic journey continues to probe the impact of electronic media
on image manipulation, allowing for an exploration of both traditional and
contemporary art forms. His work aims to combine the tactile with the digital,
linking physical textures with modern media to express evolving narratives.
 |
Artistic Methodology
Brito’s
general objective is to solidify and deepen his research on the process of
collage, examining its place within the broader history of art. He aims to
understand the visual language produced through the manipulation of printed
material, particularly in modern and contemporary art. His studies involve
exploring the work of renowned artists who have contributed to the development
of collage, such as Picasso, Braque, Rauschenberg, and Warhol.
Biography
José Brito
was born on September 6, 1958, in Lobão da Beira, Tondela. He studied at the
António Arroio Decorative Arts School in Lisbon, where he completed his
technical fire arts course. He went on to earn a degree in Painting/Fine Arts
from the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Lisbon, followed by a
Master’s degree in Art History from Lusíada University.
José Brito, recorte de mim, 60 x 70 cm, 2010
Exhibitions
Brito’s work
has been showcased in numerous galleries and exhibitions worldwide. These
include venues in Portugal, Italy, Brazil, Spain, and Germany. Some of his
notable exhibitions include:
·
1994: Sociedade
Nacional de Belas Artes, Lisbon
·
2001: Cândido
Portinari Gallery, Rome, Italy
·
2003: Enes
Gallery, Lisbon
·
2005: Galleria
Spazio Surreale, Rome, Italy
·
2013: Laissez
Faire, Porto
·
2018: Von
Zeidler Art Gallery, Berlin, Germany
·
2020: Cherkasy
Regional Art Museum, Ukraine
·
2023: First
Autumn Festival of Culture and the Arts, Vienna, Austria
·
2024: Encontros
Ibéricos, Biblioteca de Alcântara, Lisbon
Brito continues to exhibit internationally, exploring the intersections of art,
culture, and history in his works.
The Art of Fragmented Wholeness
José Brito’s
work blends the chaotic and fragmented nature of modern communication with the
transformative power of art. His use of collage, appropriation of newspaper
pages, and exploration of the relationship between the material and the
spiritual offer a unique view of contemporary society. Brito’s paintings and
artworks challenge the viewer to reconsider the ways in which we interpret
images, texts, and the world around us. Through his innovative and
introspective approach, Brito’s art continues to resonate and evolve, offering
profound insights into the human condition.
José Brito
http://josebritosantos.blogspot.com/
terça-feira, 8 de julho de 2025
José Brito: Letting the Mess Speak
By Mary W
José Brito doesn’t paint for comfort. His work doesn’t aim to calm or blend in. Based in Portugal, Brito treats painting more like a confrontation than an escape. His materials are torn, layered, and stained—black ink, newspaper scraps, paint thick enough to hide something beneath. What he puts on canvas feels more like a record than a picture. These are surfaces that have been scraped, rewritten, pushed to their edge.
You won’t find smooth finishes or quiet compositions here. Brito’s materials already come with stories—headlines, ads, bits of political debris. He doesn’t clean them up. He lets the rawness stay visible. These aren’t gestures for effect—they’re part of the message. The past leaks through the present. The unfinished thoughts remain unfinished.
You don’t stand in front of his paintings and simply admire them. You get hit by them. Not in a theatrical way, but in the way a wall of noise becomes something more—a pattern, a signal, a warning.
—
His 2009 work (45 x 55 cm) looks at first like a collection of dark shapes and tangled marks. But give it time, and it starts to shift. You begin to notice edges of buildings, the angle of a street, a single red mark pulling your eye sideways. It’s not a map, but there’s a sense of place. Or what’s left of one.
This isn’t a painting of a city. It’s a painting of what that city doesn’t say aloud. The mood is heavy, compressed, closed off. You feel the absence of windows, the blocked-off paths. It’s not dreamy—it’s airtight. Brito’s city is silent, but it’s not still. You can feel the weight of time pressing down. Things have happened here. They haven’t been resolved.
His brush doesn’t dramatize; it documents. Not in a literal way, but in a way that lets the surfaces carry the memory of all that’s been layered over and forgotten.
—
The 2011 piece (65 x 81 cm), Nightmemory of the World, picks up that thread and pulls it tighter. It reads like a wall that’s been exposed to time—old posters layered with newer ones, text bleeding into paint, ink running down through cracks.
This isn’t a depiction of a street scene—it’s what the wall has absorbed. A witness, not a narrator. The paper and paint have been touched, pasted, torn. What’s left behind is residue. And in that residue are traces of people—those who lived nearby, those who left, those who disappeared into the routine of the city.
Brito doesn’t offer clear figures or symbols. Instead, he gives us layers. Layers that hint at presence, that suggest someone was here. The painting doesn’t chase nostalgia—it feels closer to reckoning. Something is being remembered here, even if it’s just the shape of what’s missing.
—
In 2008, Brito created one of his larger works (130 x 97 cm), and the tension deepens. Black dominates the canvas. It spreads like a wave, threatening to erase what’s beneath it. But in places, you see resistance—color breaking through, pieces of text that refuse to vanish, fragments that cling to the surface.
This is a painting about noise and absence. About communication that fails, or slips through cracks. Brito isn’t interested in clarity—he’s interested in what’s left behind when clarity breaks down. He doesn’t chase meaning. He chases what can’t be fully said.
The black isn’t empty space. It’s where everything else gathers. You feel like the painting is holding things just out of reach—memories, gestures, names that were almost lost. And maybe that’s the point. This is the work of someone who doesn’t try to organize the chaos, but who knows it needs to be acknowledged.
 |
Across all these pieces, Brito resists neat conclusions. He doesn’t wrap anything up. His paintings are full of loose ends, unfinished conversations, and half-visible truths. They don’t solve—they stay open.
What’s left behind feels real. Cities with their broken corners. Histories no one fully wrote down. Messages lost in translation. His work isn’t trying to correct the world—it’s showing it as it is: layered, unstable, still speaking, even when no one’s listening.
And if you sit with it long enough, Brito’s work begins to speak back. In fragments. In stains. In silence that’s not quite silent.
https://the-artinsight.com/jose-brito-letting-the-mess-speak/
sábado, 5 de julho de 2025
José Brito: Painting the Noise and Silence of Our Time
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Brito’s work grabs you. You don’t drift
through one of his exhibitions; you stop, stare, get pulled in. His paintings
are full of noise, contradiction, and silence all at once. There’s something
unsettling about them. They echo the chaos of our cities, the weight of
forgotten news, and the beauty of what survives it. Each canvas is a kind of
protest—a visual argument. And Brito, calmly and deliberately, keeps making his
case.
Take a close look at José Brito’s 2009
mixed media painting (45 x 55 cm). At first glance, it’s just black space, torn
paper, and scribbles. But linger for a moment and you’ll notice it’s working on
a different level. This isn’t just abstraction—it’s a kind of excavation. Bits
of facades and alleyways, fractured typography, old red smudges bleeding into
night. There’s a cinematic quality here, but the lens is cracked. Brito doesn’t
paint to soothe; he paints to confront. This piece doesn’t tell a clean
story—it suggests fragments of a city half remembered, half erased.
It’s not romantic. There are no moonlit
streets or peaceful nights. Instead, there’s a Kafkaesque feeling of being
boxed in—of windows permanently shut, of streets that lead nowhere. Brito’s
night is not a place of rest. It’s a space where things get covered over,
ripped, rearranged. And yet, somehow, it all holds together—held in place by
his steady hand and sharp eye for tension.
The 2011 canvas (65 x 81 cm) continues the conversation. Titled Nightmemory of the World, it doesn’t describe a place—it reveals one. This is not the Lisbon of guidebooks. It’s the forgotten Lisbon, the one lived by workers, immigrants, insomniacs, and ghosts. Newspapers peel from walls. Paint drips like rain down concrete. There’s a physical sense of decay here, but also something poetic. You get the feeling Brito isn’t mourning the city—he’s chronicling it.
He paints as if he’s seen too much, read
too much, and has no choice but to respond. The collaged elements aren’t just
design choices; they’re evidence. The torn corners, the smudged ink, the faded
headlines—they’re fragments of a world that continues to fall apart. In the
cracks, though, there’s still life. Seagulls in flight. A glimmer of hope in a
night window. His paintings are heavy, but they breathe.
The largest piece from 2008 (130 x 97 cm) takes things further. Here, Brito seems to be asking: What is communication in the age of chaos? He doesn’t answer with clarity—he answers with contradiction. Black paint tries to drown the canvas, but light pushes through. Not light like a sunrise—more like a distant signal. The kind you strain to catch. A word half seen, a color half felt.
There’s something mythic in this one.
Not in the sense of grand heroes or gods, but in how it evokes the shared
dream-life of cities. It feels like standing in front of a wall that’s been
painted over a hundred times and still leaks meaning. The canvas becomes a site
of struggle—between noise and silence, memory and forgetting, life and
oblivion.
Brito’s gestures are bold, but his
intent is subtle. He doesn’t scream at you. He lets the work whisper, then
echo. His black isn’t flat—it holds multitudes. It hides and reveals. It stains
and absorbs. Each painting becomes a screen—literal and psychological—on which
the absurdities of modern life are projected. War, migration, lost childhoods,
vanished neighborhoods—all are in there, in some form or shadow.
What makes his work so compelling is its
refusal to resolve. He’s not offering answers. He’s showing you what remains
when the answers fall away. A newsprint headline. A handprint. A smudge of
paint that might have been a word. These are the residues he works with. He
takes what’s discarded and gives it weight.
José
Brito’s art isn’t easy. It’s not supposed to be. But if you sit with it—if you
let the blackness settle and the fragments arrange themselves—you start to hear
what he’s really saying. The world is loud. The night is full. And even in the
dark, something is always trying to speak.
https://artmusexpress.com/jose-brito-painting-the-noise-and-silence-of-our-time/
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