Portrait & Quotation
“Maria doesn’t paint a portrait;
she gathers a face and offers it refuge.”
Born in Buenos Aires in 1950, Maria Amaral draws from her exile, her Latin American roots, and her deep love for humanity the strength of a vibrant and uncompromising art. Trained at the Beaux-Arts in Paris and inspired by Käthe Kollwitz, Guayasamin and Van Gogh, she paints the soul of human beings with passion, modesty, and intensity.
Roots of Exile
Exiled from Spain, her father—a pastor—and her mother—a teacher—found refuge in Argentina in 1949 after years of resistance. It was on December 25, 1950, in Buenos Aires, that Maria Amaral was born. In 1967, she too experienced exile, this time with her entire family. France welcomed them, and it was in Strasbourg and later at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, where she earned the Higher Diploma in Fine Arts, that her path as an artist truly began.
Inspirations of the Soul
German Expressionism, Munch, Van Gogh, Picasso’s Blue Period, and above all Käthe Kollwitz, along with major Latin American painters such as Guayasamin, Siqueiros, Rivera, Carpani, and Lam, were Maria’s earliest sources of inspiration—both technically and expressively. Far from the aesthetic trends of the 1970s but close to the unbearable reality experienced by human beings, she seeks to portray the Latin American soul: its roots, its cultural fusion, and its suffering.
Inspirations of the Soul
German Expressionism, Munch, Van Gogh, Picasso’s Blue Period, and above all Käthe Kollwitz, along with major Latin American painters such as Guayasamin, Siqueiros, Rivera, Carpani, and Lam, were Maria’s earliest sources of inspiration—both technically and expressively. Far from the aesthetic trends of the 1970s but close to the unbearable reality experienced by human beings, she seeks to portray the Latin American soul: its roots, its cultural fusion, and its suffering.
The Power of the Line
In the beginning, there was black and white—connected by an invisible breath we call the line. It was through the line, etched in harsh charcoal, that Maria expressed herself for more than twenty years. Drawing, engraving, lithography, and poster design became tools she quickly mastered, allowing her not only to denounce injustice, but to affirm the presence of human beings too often silenced, and to bear witness to an exile lived without resignation.
Transfigured Pain
After seeing her drawings, one is left devastated—just as one never truly returns from exile. Of course, there is black and white, shadow and light, life and death. But beyond this elemental and dualistic dimension of her work, the pain that is transfigured here strikes you not through cruelty, but through modesty, silence, and a kind of precision that, once the initial shock has passed, leaves you feeling strangely reassured… even comforted.
Transfigured Pain
After seeing her drawings, one is left devastated—just as one never truly returns from exile. Of course, there is black and white, shadow and light, life and death. But beyond this elemental and dualistic dimension of her work, the pain that is transfigured here strikes you not through cruelty, but through modesty, silence, and a kind of precision that, once the initial shock has passed, leaves you feeling strangely reassured… even comforted.
The Awakening of Color
A dazzling moment came in the 1980s—color burst forth from black and white. Love, perhaps, or motherhood, may have been its cause… or its reason.
Themes of Life
Still lifes, the encounter between Europe and Latin America, tango, bullfighting, bodies and love, and countless portraits—all these nourish her work. She paints as she loves: generously and with trust. Every pain must find its consolation, and she devotes herself to that, tirelessly.
Themes of Life
Still lifes, the encounter between Europe and Latin America, tango, bullfighting, bodies and love, and countless portraits—all these nourish her work. She paints as she loves: generously and with trust. Every pain must find its consolation, and she devotes herself to that, tirelessly.
Corrida: Man and Beast
Through bullfighting, beyond the horror, she unites beast and man—merged in the same dazzling moment, she does not separate them. Gripped by the same fear, they whirl and dance together…
Tango: Sensual Joy
With tango, she brushes aside the clichés of nostalgia and sorrow that often weigh down this dance and its culture. Her tango is radiant, sensual, and playful…
Tango: Sensual Joy
With tango, she brushes aside the clichés of nostalgia and sorrow that often weigh down this dance and its culture. Her tango is radiant, sensual, and playful…
The Beloved Bodies
Bodies that love each other. Here, Maria holds nothing back—her generosity, her tenderness, her affection. A body is no longer just a body; it becomes a profusion of bodies, blossoming…
Faces and Hands
These faces shaped by time, etched beyond suffering, are truly those of our wounded humanity—scarred yet luminous, resilient, and generous…
Faces and Hands
These faces shaped by time, etched beyond suffering, are truly those of our wounded humanity—scarred yet luminous, resilient, and generous…
A Tribute to the Living
Without complacency, with precision and care, her line restores the true presence of each being—as a tribute paid to their humanity, not their identity…
Exile at Peace
It is through her bodies and portraits, in this open and trusting love, that the exile of the self comes to an end—and Maria restores to it meaning, and life.
Exile at Peace
It is through her bodies and portraits, in this open and trusting love, that the exile of the self comes to an end—and Maria restores to it meaning, and life.
