Wild horses

Jesús Montes is a painter who has drank from the fount of French expressionist post-impressionism in its technical facet, as well as Fauvism in its chromatic invention facet. Of the Spanish artists attached to this last movement, Montes has often taken certain female iconography. Equally, he has sometimes looked at Spanish painting of the ‘Generation of 1998’, both in iconography and in tonal devotion. Another, much more distant, influence is the first German Expressionism, which was followed by some pictures of urban iconography. In any case, Montes demonstrates a devotion —which we could describe as proudly timeless— for the masters of the first pictorial modernity. It is assumed from his work that nothing of what happened in the historical avant-garde movements or after them interested him, except for certain ways of doing things —denigrating their radicalism, or perhaps turning to their sources— renovated the most traditional and academic painting in Spain. Consider the relationship that some landscapes of the author have with the Second School of Vallecas, for example.
Caballos salvajes (Wild horses) is a piece donated by the author to the University. I think it is a strange artwork of itself. It is also strange in Montes’ habitual work, as only in certain technical aspects and an overlapping symbolism does it approach the influences mentioned above. From a plastic point of view, one there is a noticeable mastery in the drawing of the anatomy of the horses and in the compositional balance which measures the weights of the shapes and colour. On the other hand —and there the canvas strikes up a hard battle with the ambient light— the material application, being dense, does not move so much towards building figures or space but rather operates replacing the line, supplanting the drawing.
Montes has reported that, when he was two years old, he saw a sketch of a mural of his father, the painter Gaspar Montes Iturrioz, with horse motifs. According to the author, this piece, painted in the Navarrese Valley of Baztán, is inspired by that sketch.
Numerous horses —some clearly represented, others just insinuated— appear in a confusing space. From the hues, it could be a forest in autumn or winter, at night. But it is not a plausible image. It is not clearly revert to reality.
Jesús Montes has presented numerous canvases around the same motif (sometimes with the same title) on other occasions. Usually the animals appear in various focuses and angles of view, painted in a vibrant, raucous, chromaticism that fills both the background and the figures of the horses themselves. The author ultimately represents the rhythmic and exuberant beauty of the species, subject to traditional symbolism. But here the horses are literally confused with space; except for some clearer figures, the rest approach with effort and are finally lost. In my opinion, in this canvas, Montes abandons the representation of that shareable, completely free corporality to expose an odd obsession that is absolutely personal.
Amaya Ascunce Parada