A painter's bridge of surprises: in the treasure houses of Giancarlo Puppo, disquieting creatures converge to tell intriguing stories.

As modern as he is timeless, this artist uncovers secrets and creates areas of convergence, like hinges, where architecture and painting overlap, offering us a play of colors that melt from canvas onto brick. Bricks are always visible on Puppian walls', they weave sections that remind us of cloth the thick woolen barracan of northwest Argentina or the herringbone pattern of a noble English fabric, the kind they would try to sell us in the days when traveling salesmen went from house to house with their bags full of contraband and treasures.

Giancarlo Puppo has the bag of treasures now and it's not contraband; or perhaps it. is, because art has the ability to cross borders without asking permission or passing through customs. So much so, that this man of deceptively innocent blue eyes crossed one more border and moved into the field of writers. In a beautiful book entitled Strange Lovable Creatures, Puppo's paintings are accompanied by brief stories about how the paintings came to be. They create a daring and brilliant pictorial universe in a kind of Moebius strip, with all the warmth of home, like a fireplace, in tact, when Puppo designs a house, it always has fireplaces, created like sculptures and forming the perfect metaphor for the creative fire that drives the complete spectrum of his plastic art.

The houses of Giancarlo Puppo tell me stories, and I read them as if they were novels. To start with, there are those imaginative outer designs, so unmistakably his; they function as the covers of a book, hinting of the surprises inside. Then there are the textures that call out to be touched, though they may be as rough as dirt, or as the mountain itself. Puppo builds with the eyes of an artist and the hands of an artisan,

Is he an architect-painter? A painter-architect? We flip a coin that has a paintbrush on one side and a T-square on the other. The coin lands on its side, and we all win.

"I'm attracted to images of apparent serenity that could 'also be describing an atrocious universe, like the paintings of Candido Lopez, which would qualify as naive if it weren't for the fact that they show thousands of dead bodies and tell about the bloody war in confesses.

Puppo is also attracted to mischief and irreverence. The pieces he creates purely for aesthetic pleasure become trampolines that catapult us into unknown regions. And we flow along in the same way the nonflowing streams of his paintings flow, crossing bridges every so often that tell their own stories, tying things together.

There are bridges in Puppo's houses, too, sometimes aerial bridges of unfurling metal that appear to beckon us into a hidden world. The artist himself is a bridge between his view--the deep look inside, the uncovering, discovering view--and ours. We are observers and participants. We are able not only to see with new eyes, but also to touch and to taste with other unexpected senses.

It's naptime and Alice, sitting beneath a tree, peers occasionally into the book that her sister is reading. But it's a boring book, without pictures or dialogue. So she runs after the White Rabbit that passes in a hurry, cheeks his watch, and scurries into a cave. We, like Alice, leave this text behind and begin to submerge ourselves into the Wonderland of Giancarlo Puppo's work.

Giancarlo Puppo is what we could call a Renaissance man--not a modern dilettante, a polymorph, or an omnivore--but above all a great conveyor of a very particular language of art,. He was born in Rome and at the age of eight arrived in Argentina, where he was captivated forever by the American world. He became an architect and then a painter. Or was it the other way around? Perhaps he was a painter who became an architect in order to give greater physical form to his canvases. We'll never know; Puppo's architecture and painting often fuse in festive installations.

A European with an American soul, Giancarlo Puppo travels our continent and observes its innermost workings. Sacred places draw him like a magnet the Hopi Indian kivas, for example, that you enter from the roof through large wooden ladders that lead you, not up, but down into the heart of the earth. Puppo is most attracted by a world turned upside down; he turns his own images inside out like a glove to get a glimpse of what is inside and then reveals it.

Words at the table

Oil, string, and cloth on canvas, 2001

They ring the bell and it feels like pressing a tiny feathered bird, warm and soft. A few nights ago, they were invited by a certain couple, while attending a strange dinner party. Now, here they are. A servant lets them in and sits them immediately at the dining table. While they comment on this unusual procedure, conversations start to be heard, but there is nobody around. Little by little the conversation becomes clearer, directional, undoubtedly it comes from below, from the fellows in the table's fascia. The volume of their speech, now understandable, has risen. "Sure" one says, "if they knew their hosts and what happens to guests here, they would hesitate to come" A feminine voice adds: "Do you remember that couple that disappeared? Newspapers made a lot of noise and still nothing was ever known." The guest couple exchange a quick nervous glance and they fade like shadows. Outside afterwards: "Did you hear what they said?" "Yes, but did you see the faces they had? With those faces, the conversation made sense; what else would you expect them to say?"

The day after, a phone call from their hosts informs, in a kind and phony way: "My dear ones, the talking table is a joke that my wife loves to play ..."

Velazquez in New Mexico Oil and mixed media on canvas, 1999-2001

Only and mixed media on canvas, 1999-2001

Only a few relate that one of Velazquez's many trips was to New Mexico. Apparently that short visit left few traces, but indelible: the habit of washing himself, not in fashion at the time, the gift for ubiquity and delirium, later shown in his Las Meninas, a consequence of the fruit; that is to say, due to the periodical use of peyote.

The only document that testifies to this trip is an image depicting him up high, half hiding behind a low wall, while he is unobservable observing a ceremony going on in a kiva.

Honey! - Honey! Mixed media on canvas, 1995

That's what they say when they see each other and they extend their arms without touching. They exist on different wavelengths.

Aside, submerged in a cloud of dust, a little girl jumps rope while contemplating indifferently the encounter/nonencounter.

Back at her home the filthy girl will be scrupulously, thoroughly beaten, then washed by her mother.

Andres Mixed media and oil on canvas, 2001

Andras is in his boat on the sea. Yesterday He said: "Enough of this fishing. Let's go in search of other fish." Andrew is a cautious, prudent man. He never ventures too far from the coast. He is a fisherman and he knows how to make decisions; he smells the wind, weighs his options, and then decides. He is a fisherman, but he likes to keep his feet on the ground. He will return with some fish because his is not a sporting operation. When he goes to sea he always comes back with something. This time he's not after fish; he's fishing for ideas.

Andrea remembers that He proposed to set the boat adrift, navigating blindly, hence taking huge risks; He must be mad. He, reading his mind, said, "If you don't like to fish with me, stay home."

Andres dislikes risks; he likes to be certain. If there are no fish today, there will be some another day. He won't sail just anywhere to find them. It's better not eating for a day and staying alive. "I have a house, friends, if the fishing is good, some good wine, what does He have to offer? Profound solitude, but seriously, abandoning his bar, friends, wife, there is no room for anything else but fishing, fishing, and more fishing."

"You are going to screw up my life." "Of course." "I want you to know, I am not Simon." "I know. Pedro is simple and this is why I need him as boss. The boss needs to be less intelligent and let others think; he should organize and execute; he cannot be too intelligent, he would have too many doubts." "Anyway, I am not Simon." "Andre ... I already have a Pedro ..."

With his mind elsewhere, Andrej fishes with danger present, maybe death or even worse: torture. He is afraid, hesitant.

Andy is alone in his vessel on the sea.

On the Street Oil and wood construction, 1996

A couple, waiting for the bus, has an argument on the sidewalk. Never ending, they go on and on. In time, those around them become involved in the story, perhaps losing their patience, finally engaging themselves in discussion:

"I think the girl is right, she has no friends, never invites anyone to the house, and he only brings guests home. There is never a moment's peace; also he never invites her, perhaps out to the movies, don't you think?"

"What can I say, maybe he can't, he can't afford it ..." "Oh my, no, listen to me, he's well dressed, two tickets for the movies, an ice cream, or even a bouquet of flowers ... you don't need much!"

"Evidently he does not feel that way, so ..."

"There we are! He doesn't feel like that, the girl is right! He only wants to lay her["

"And who knows? Maybe she loves daily sex, twice a day, who knows what forbidden things they might do ..."

"I suggest you watch what you say because your speech is not refined, it actually seems to me a bit perverse.

A dog detects the presence of a little female dog on the first floor, but at the sight of a fascinating pair of legs, prefers to stay where he is to enjoy the show of Miss Nella, who is swaying down the stairs from the third floor, heading downtown.

An internationally renowned Argentine novelist and essayist, Luisa Valenzuela has a great affinity for visual artists and frequently Collaborates with Giancarlo Puppo.