Manuel Diez Matilla: a forgotten fate

Psychoanalysis of the work of Manuel Diez Matilla

6th part

Revision in Saturday, December 8th, 2012

By Christian Diez Axnick

Below a Round Table ivory made not my father, of a big decorative wealth.

Below two paintings of my grandmother, in the green and blue cold tones, which
testify of her long and painful disease: the alzheimer.













Let us compare again with a detail of the carpet of the creation, mother, snake, and child.

The painting of my father is also prophetic, and approaches, places the long decay,
the disorder and the mental confusion of abuela.

The snake gets overcomes little by little the mother.

 Among hundreds of paintingsrealized by my father, we can retain the series of two or three paintings which
he had realized every time on different themes. As well the pastoral theme of the hunter of goldfinches,  or still that of the man praying in front of a crucifix.

He had been inspired by the Figaro and by the photo after the disaster of Fréjus. Or still those of my grandmother, seriously affected to alzheimer.

With blue and green tones evoking the disease and the terrible mental decay which she entails.

My father when he approached a theme, returned sometimes above. On arrival we keep
sometimes only certain photos of certain paintings which have eventually lands god knows who.


He did the same from the point of view of the composition. For example when he left on neutrals to work funds,

then came to greens for trees, and to whole color palette there.

Chestnuts, ochre, grey, point of red to make blue the extremities. His knowledge of the ranges,
the ease with which he managed to slide thousands of colors, to innovate in the choice of colors, stays something rather stunning

 He did not grow tired of working with brushes, of coming and of returning, of scratching as one said in the jargon of the
house painters. It is a little the same thing for tables or furniture, we put in reality little paint on the brush,

we go and we return, slowly, all in good time.

 He also realized portraits of my mother, friends, other persons of the family. I soaked very early in this particular
atmosphere. I had an exceptionally gifted dad, and I reacted as a kid to whom we open the doors of the secret and the world.

 I was astounded, privileged is the exact term.

 Unfortunately, my two brothers did not share my taste and my passion for the work which it made, at
least not as much as me. However, I did not really make my proof more than they, and I am willing to make amends,

because I have never too much had time to paint, finally ever enormously. The problem is rather than the other
passions of my two brothers got the upper hand over the painting. But I was not either particularly hard-working,

contrary to my father who was a working animal. But I liked very much working with him on the workshop.

On the other hand, I assimilated his technique, a large part of its knowledge. I liked very much watching at him working, I was stunned.

And nevertheless, it is so ridiculous if we base ourselves on the art history, on the market of the art.
He was a painter so much ignored not to say partially rejected by the society, even if he knew his hours of glory.

 On what I saw him making, concerning certain tables, certain furniture, certain floral, natural or aquatic decorations,

I have to say that I dedicated him an admiration without border, me which rest it is necessary to say it a rather ordinary,

even mediocre individual, but I do not want to darken either too much the board as for me.

I helped him to the workshop also during good about fifteen years. I started the workshop  in 8 years and the factory in 16,

afterward I became respectable, I continued the school, but at the bottom we do not teach it much of other than the hatred

and the contempt of the differences.

It is a place who we take up people some against the others easily, the place of all the manipulations also.

To the workshop, we do not lie, we know the quality of every person and its capacities.

Everything is estimated in a workshop.

It is true that sometimes, my father treated me a little as a germ, but I neither was
specially resourceful or manual either, nor too much endowed.

On the other hand, I made the Greek, I spent the blending, I made gilts and many other things.

I have to say it by respect for the public, his disappearance had plunged me into the confusion, I did not understand any more who I was.

We cannot go alongside to such a monument without leaving it anything which will belong for ever to the
story. He died in the injustice, at the height of the devastation caused by the AIDS, in a world delivered to him even.

He left his imprint, his magic leg, and it left joining somewhere his, those who are one of us somewhere also, because
our people knew his hours of suffering also. He leaves a big space behind him, who was not filled until now.