'Optic Nerve', an art novel by Argentine writer Maria Gainza
Gainza's novel, "Optic Nerve," immerses readers in a captivating exploration of art, presenting a unique blend of art lessons and appreciation. The story revolves around a protagonist who possesses a deep understanding of art as a connoisseur, critic, and guide. With frequent visits to art galleries, she shares her emotional experiences upon encountering masterpieces by Argentine, European, Japanese, and American artists. Gainza skillfully weaves together narratives that connect the inherent beauty of art with its profound impact on our emotions.
The novel is rich with real-life stories of various artists and their extraordinary adventures and idiosyncrasies. For instance, Gainza narrates the tale of Candido Lopez, an Argentine artist who, after losing his right hand in the Triple Alliance War, paints bloody scenes depicting the war's brutality (a conflict involving Brazil, Argentina, and Uruguay against Paraguay in the 1860s, resulting in the death of a significant portion of Paraguayan males).
According to Gainza, the essence of art resides in the space between aesthetic pleasure and genuine captivation. Alongside the art-loving protagonist, Gainza introduces a cast of fascinating characters, each vibrant, amusing, and intriguing in their own right.
Through her personal experiences and the perspectives of the novel's characters, Gainza delves into the profound impact of art on life. Let us explore some examples of the emotions evoked by certain paintings:
Courbet's artwork evokes an overwhelming urge to run through the streets, incite people, engage in passionate encounters, or simply savor the taste of an apple. The viewer is consumed by a pictorial fervor that transcends the boundaries of art, immersing them in the tempestuous essence of life itself.
Alfred Dreux's creations pulsate with atavistic symbolism, portraying the eternal struggle between good and evil, light and darkness.
Hubert Robert's works resemble premonitions—a painter glimpsing the horizon and effortlessly transferring its essence onto the canvas through loose, open-ended brushstrokes.
Rothko's pieces elicit a visceral response that transcends the visual realm, seeping into one's very being, akin to a fire burning deep within the stomach. At times, Rothko's art appears as smoldering, infinite blocks of fire, reminiscent of the burning bush from Exodus—an inexhaustible force. Gainza suggests that the most potent aspect of any artwork often lies in its silence, and style itself serves as a medium of emphasis. Although the experience of contemplating a Rothko painting might possess a spiritual quality, it defies conventional description, comparable to witnessing a glacier or traversing a desert. Words prove inadequate in the face of such art, leaving one with an irrepressible urge to exclaim, "fuck me."
Standing before Rousseau's monumental work, "The Dream," housed in MoMA, is an experience capable of shaking the very foundations of one's existence.
Piero della Francesca's "Madonna del Parto" in Monterchi, Italy, reportedly has the power to evoke deep emotions in a German governess.
El Greco's art ignites an internal struggle within ourselves. As teenagers, we are captivated by his work, but as we grow more knowledgeable and cynical, we find ourselves exasperated by El Greco's unwavering dogmatism and sensuality. The coexistence of flesh and spirit in a single image becomes increasingly challenging to accept, as we have been taught to view them as mutually exclusive entities.
Gainza enhances the novel with thought-provoking quotes from various writers, poets, and artists. T.S. Eliot's words resonate powerfully: "The more perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind that creates."
It is worth noting that the translation of this novel from Spanish to English, undertaken by Thomas Bunstead, received support from the Argentine Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Like many Argentine novelists, Gainza delves deep into the intricate and intellectual analysis of human psychology. This characteristic is not only prevalent among Argentine writers but also among the general Argentine public. Argentines possess a natural inclination towards psychiatry, likely stemming from their exposure to the cyclical economic crises that shape their nation. Furthermore, Argentines are known for their extensive reading habits, making them the most well-read individuals in Latin America. After immersing themselves in literature, they gather in cafes, engaging in hours-long discussions and debates, reflecting on what they have read. Argentines seem to possess solutions for the world's problems, yet struggle to find resolutions for their own beloved Argentina.
In one poignant moment, the protagonist encounters a painting that strikingly resembles herself, eliciting a profound desire to embrace the artwork. In this introspective moment, she ponders, "Isn't all artwork a mirror? Could a remarkable painting not reframe the question 'what is it about?' to 'what am I about?'" She contemplates the idea that theory itself is, in a way, always intertwined with autobiography.
Within the narrative, the heroine embarks on a journey to teach Spanish to a Japanese woman residing on the twentieth floor of a building overlooking the Hippodrome racecourse on Avenida del Libertador in the Palermo area of Buenos Aires. Personally familiar with the setting, having resided on the fortieth floor of the same building for four years, the protagonist recalls observing horse races through the front windows and polo matches from the right-side windows. The protagonist's wanderings through the city's elegant parks, avenues, and her frequent visits to renowned bars, cafes, and restaurants evoke a deep sense of nostalgia for Buenos Aires, a city often regarded as the finest in Latin America.