Estaba previsto un encuentro en su casa de Martinez.
La noche anterior ,mi amigo me dijo , mejor lo dejamos para más adelante , ahora no es un buen momento para que vengas. Nunca lo conocí a Marco !! Podría decir que se le escapó la vida a un gran autodidacta ,
colorista ,provocador y explorador . Un Cancer lo devoró.

Sus amigos avanzaron en el proceso de homenajearlo y fui convocada nuevamente .

Finalmente llegue a la casa de Martínez. Me esperaba mi amigo y su sobrino Matías , más tarde llegaría su hermano. Y yo recorriendo su mundo por primera vez , invadida , invadiendo, tocando, sintiendo ,oliendo, un te nos esperaba abajo pero yo ya estaba arriba …haciéndome a la idea que ahí comenzaba mi trabajo.

Su lugar, un espacio, una casa, un primer piso donde se alojaba la
creatividad ,su Studio, la multiplicidad de imágenes , una y otra vez en diferentes soportes , diferentes paletas , diferentes resultados.
Mis ojos , mi mente ,mi corazón se iban fundiendo entendiendo que Marco no estaba y yo tenía que seleccionar su obra . Mostrar su belleza interior. Transportarme hacia su interior y descubrir a través . Y a través de lo que veía.

Descubrir la riqueza de su arte , del tesoro con que me encontré en esa visita , una energía muy fuerte flotaba en ese ambiente , una energía cálida que me hacia recorrer cada espacio de su casa-taller sintiéndome cómoda.
Serena en su silencio, su santuario. Un recorrido de sus últimos 10 años o sus 10 primeros años en el arte , en su pintura.

Empecé a seleccionar sus cuadros , sus papeles ,sus bastidores , sus MDF , sus fundas plásticas de los bastidores. Un productor de obra que fui desempolvando y descubriendo alrededor de su sobrino Matías y su amigo Marcelo. Maravillados con encuentros de obra nunca vistas por nadie. Donde el descubrimiento se fue multiplicando. Donde los colores aparecían cada vez más y más intensos. En sus silencios de obra se producía la metamorfosis y esencia del color . La mágica ubicación de los colores en de cada uno de ellos, y la mágica exploración para un autodidacta, donde puedo afirmar que artistas con el poderoso don de tener una lectura de obra tan clara en la elección del color

son pocos. La fortaleza de sus retratos hacen una pintura tan vital como arrolladora.

Esas mujeres , seguramente reales, mostrando ternura , compasión , emoción , furia, y un sin fin de adjetivos , hacen de ellas un desborde de color inconmensurable ,sorpresivo, hasta llegar a su Mona Lisa. Que la convierte en una Paleta Joven . Llena de colores que tan solo un hombre joven en espíritu podría elegirlos .

Ese era Branko .
Su muestra la quiso llamar Como la Mona.

Sería tal vez el darse cuenta que estas reglas impuestas por su creatividad ilimitada terminaban.

Dejando una impronta tan pregnante como motivadora . Tal vez sus habilidades pictóricas hayan absorbido su ser , pero su expansión fue mas allá de su realidad.

El virtuosismo de sus amigos en llevar adelante su historia con los lugares elegidos por Marco , sus caras, el río, el cosmos, el universo , la abstracción, dejan a la vista esta muestra curada con mucho amor, en el UCEMA.

Gracias.
Marcela Di Stasio Artista Visual.

June 2016

A select group of friends, orchestrated by Marcelo Loustaneau, wanted to pay homage to renowned economist Marco Rebozov (also known as Branko) for his large trajectory of mostly unknown artwork that spanned the last ten years of his life. They asked me to curate his work.

My friend Marcelo Loustaneau arranged to meet Marco at his house in Martinez so he could introduce me to Marco’s ample outpouring of art. I had never met the man and I was excited to go. But the night before, Marcelo called to say that now was not a good time to visit. We needed to postpone. Cancer had just overtaken Marco’s life.

The great colorful self-taught artist, provocateur and explorer — whom I would come to call the “Palette of Young Colors” — was about to depart from this earth. He was 60 years old.

Only days after Marco’s imminent passing, his friends decided to go ahead with the exhibition. With the homage was to take place in one month, I had to moved quickly.

Finally I was at Marco’s home in Martinez. Marcelo and Marco’s nephew Matias were waiting for me. Later his brother joined us.

Tea was prepared in the salon, but I was already ensconced upstairs in his art studio. Imbedded in Marco’s self-created world for the first time, I was invaded, invading, touching, feeling, smelling. His space, his creativity, his multiplicity of images… again and again I was impacted by his variety of painting surfaces, ever-changing palettes. My eyes, my mind, my heart were melting down; trying to comprehend that although Marco wasn’t around, I had the important task to select his art pieces for the exhibition. To show his interior beauty. To transport me through his inner world so that I could discover who he was.

That it what happened. I discovered the richness of his art, the treasure of his work. A strong warm energy surged through his home, rendering me surprisingly comfortable as I journeyed through his large studio. Serene in his silence, in his sanctuary.

I began selecting his paintings, his drawings. Capturing the last 10 years – his first 10 years – of his art.

Aided by Marcelo and Marco’s nephew, we were dusting off and uncovering his pieces one by one. Marveled by works of art never seen before. Painted in ways unimaginable. Not only over canvas, over wood, but even over the plastic covers that had originally contained the canvases. I was mesmerized.

The paintings didn’t cease. One appeared after another. His colors became increasingly more and more intense. A metamorphous of color, the essence of color was pronounced within the silence.

Each color was magically set in each painting, and the exploration that this self- taught artist achieved was also magical. I can affirm that there are few artists with such a powerful sense of color.

The strength of his portraits of women were so vivid as to render them overwhelming. Surely real people, these women show us their tenderness, compassion, emotion, fury – evoking adjectives without end. And through them a surprising over-abundance of colors, leading us to his Mona Lisa. She is a striking palette of young colors that only his young spirit could have chosen.

That was Branko.

Marco had wanted to name the exhibit of his life work “Como la Mona (As Mona).” Perhaps because he knew that all the rules that had guided his creativity were coming to an end.

Leaving us an imprint so motivating.

Perhaps his artistic abilities had absorbed his later being, but it was his unique use of those very gifts that projected him beyond his known realm of reality.

It was the goodness of his friends that enabled Marco’s story to be told. The exhibition at UCEMA captures his intimate perspective of life forces – human faces, rivers, the cosmos, the universe— as well as the abstract.

Here is a true homage to Marco, curated with love.

Marcela Di Stasio