Maikel Domínguez is a lonely artist, locked in his bubble of fantasies and dreams. And that’s what attracts me about him, his unpredictability: when everyone goes to the right, he goes to the left. When they follow a trend, he looks at his navel and forgets about the world. He only cares about his muses, his unique and singular country of wonders. That’s why he’s so authentic.
His work is as shy and mysterious as himself, as refined and elegant as only a few will understand. His canvases speak from absence, rather than from presence. What is not on the pictorial surface, what is missing: that is where the magic of his works begins. A minimalism that reminds us of the famous phrase “the essential is invisible to the eyes.”
His work is also cannibal, chameleonic: today in one way, tomorrow another, today from one and another at a time; a nightmare for gallerists and the market. Since I’ve known him, he changes his style like changing clothes. He uses and discards with the same speed: neo-expressionism, pop, abstraction, grotesque photographs; large formats, small, medium; nervous brushstrokes or pending to details. Everything bores him with great ease. And that is his great charm: a mixture of “everything transcends me” with “nothing impresses me.” It is impossible to track him.
Like any good dreamer.
Píter Ortega Núñez M.A.