Torrens’s studies have the specificity of portraits. Monique I (2003) is a deceptively simple bust-length study of a young woman, body turned to the picture plane, head in profile. Strong light from the left catches the gleam in her eye, while her ponytail falls into shadow to make a striking silhouette shape. The sepia and platinum tones of the figure look vibrant against the cool gray of the background. The same model appears in Monique III (2003), in reverse, so to speak, her back to us and facing left, her hair pushed up under a raffish cap. A similar cap is used to striking effect in La Gorra de Deyanira (2004), its backwards off-center tilt balancing the choreography of dynamically crossed arms. Another model characteristically embodies a kind of interior drama. She seems tired and restless in Lourdes VIII (2003), introspective in Lourdes XII (2005) and tranced out, with a balletically yearning arm, in Lourdes V (2003). Cubiculum V (2003) has an allegorical cast, as the same protagonist sits cross-legged in a blank box, pushing against the confines of its walls. Torrens is, despite his agility with tonality, interested in color. In the Ingres-like image of a seated woman’s back, Alli te Espero (2003), warm skin tones gleam against a deep blue-violet background. Typically, the artist’s backgrounds are an indeterminate space of color or tone. A shift in background from charcoal to lighter gray sometimes delineates wall from floor. This is his strategy in Blues Time (2004), where a barefoot figure in cobalt pants and striped shirt stands, face buried in hands, and Subalterno (2002), a portrait of an aging bullfighter startlingly enlivened by his costume of pink, crimson and purple. An unusual multi-figure composition, again in the artist’s monogramatic palette, is Paternity con Spiderman (2003). The neutral background is still there, but it surrounds a comfortable striped sofa, occupied by a dozing father and his relaxed yet alert child. A jointed humanoid toy perches on the back of the sofa, and the scale of the juxtaposition adds a surreal touch to this domestic, intimate scene. In this abstracted, fictive painter’s space, a real-world relationship of tenderness and charm has materialized. Bernarducci Meisel Gallery, 37 West 57th Street, New York, New York 10019. Telephone (212) 593-3757. On the web at www.bernarduccimeisel.com Originally printed in American Arts Quarterly, Volume 22, number 4. |






