Diary of a dissection
Carlos says he hates biographical details.
Bisected, tortured, impaled… it's not possible to separate Carlos from his images. His work is a kind of diary, a shamelessly passionate window into the turbulent and disturbed inner workings of a young/old, wiry Dominican-born man who grew up with a refined understanding of beauty and pain.
Carlos himself has been said to move like a praying mantis; his whole body
is a sort of dance macabre. He renders images of peeled-away flesh to show
you his guts, managing to evoke both machismo and vulnerability.
When Carlos has taken the traditional gallery route, he has insisted his paintings be scattered on the floor – he delights in the idea that a painting be treated like a carpet –. Irreverence is one of his hallmarks, and he has embraced it
like a lover. Take the A train to 200th/Dyckman Street* and if the MTA has been lax, you will see his new pieces. People leave Carlos love letters and messages at this informal "gallery."
Carlos says, "They'll write, 'I'm glad you're back.' 'I love it' or ' I hate it',
'Why don't you do something useful?' They write on little bits of themselves,
not on post-its, that's very downtown. The MTA thinks they're really
doing harm when they paint over my images with black, but they're just
giving me a new panel."
"Diary of a dissection" by Laren Stover,
first appeared in BOMB Magazine: (BOMB 56/Summer 1996)
*This project was caried out for a period of a few years during the late '90's