Luis Royo
It’s been long ago since I don’t lean out the window. I haven’t had the strenght enough for it. Back to my endless issue with the windows. Time of dark corners.
Month after month looking with the last cigarette at the city lights turning off. Gray images are covering the studio walls. Studio?… voluntary jail that has aged me ten years, that has eaten a hundred kilos of my energy, that has melted three-quarters of my brain, it has made me spill 2 buckets of tears, it has enraged me, it gets me down, beats me down, it defeated me. Of course I understand now why for eighteen years I had not found the time for this madness. The fear to live this year made me look to another direction.
Eighteen years that have added piles of papers with notes, images and writings… Malefic Time invading and waiting for its moment. The shitty ‘american’, who I don’t get to throw out of my life to which he has stuck like a limpet, has been weaving all this tangle of events and has been vomiting this world of characters and beings. Sometimes it takes me a lot of hard work to remember some of his many messages in bottles. I lost some images and writings over all these years; but even so, his story has a weight of a tombstone… and now here we are with his mess in this jail of paintbrushes and demons.
Stonemason instead creator, as Buonarrotti said, getting from the marble block the figure that hides inside of it. We don’t chose what happens, we don’t create a story, nor an image. We aspire it with an effort of the same air not a tuft of hair is formed fortuitously. A word that has been accompaniyng me, pressuring me, crushing me during years, until the last comma is written in the air and it only has to be found.
Some drivers aren’t working in my head. After so many years without legs, chained to a drawing desk, I still need to start again with every project. The drivers that could take advantage of years of profession, technique, experience, are failing… And I see myself furious here looking at the night behind this bars. No wonder those with the white gowns say that something is failing here, inside this body. By the way, there are more of them every day, be careful. They’re invading us, I see them everywhere… the city is full of these guys in white gowns – am I saying city? The whole world. Be careful: they’re obsessed with the idea of updating our drivers in their way.







Hello! My name is Olga, I’m 19 years old russian girl and I have something to say.
I want to thank you, guys, for this project and especially Luis Royo who is my favourite painter since I’ve known about him. Thank you very much.
As a matter of fact I check out this site every day hoping for the next part of masterpiece to appear. I mean not only the paintings but also words. Written by you, Luis, they resemble your canvas, I can see you choosing every word with care like a slight colour for the next stroke..
This project is awesome, I should say.
I started to learn Spanish just because Luis speaks it, I wanted to be able to understand something in the interviews. well, I didn’t succeed very much but at last I can say something like “nuestra casa es blanca y pecena”
)))))) I hope you are proud of me ))
I’m going to follow this project as long as it exists so please, please keep doing it..
HE QUEDADO FASCINADA CON TUS PALABRAS…TE HE IMAGINADO COMO TE DESCRIBISTE A LA PERFECCION…Y HE SENTIDO CADA PALABRA…ME ENCANTA COMO DIBUJAS…PERO ME ENCANTO COMO DESCRIBES TUS SENTIMIENTOS…UN SALUDO…MAHARET…DESDE LAS MAS PROFUNDAS TINIEBLAS