I arrived at his house looking for the keys to his work as a visual artist but I saw an artist on the bottom of a cauldron. I went with the aim to unravel was beating in my brain since the last time I had enjoyed his work exhibited in a gallery in downtown Havana.
But little by little we were tangled up in conversation and I didn’t ask the questions I had on my list. Who cares! José Ángel Vincench appeals to the representation of the image to create a universe filled with signs, signals that cross between the religious practices of Palomonte, daily life, and the systematization of the laboratory that looks after every detail.
The pieces made with paint, blood and excrement that Vincench returns to us penetrate the unnecessary qualifications. Even in his daily seclusion Vincench is committed to be a witness, not a reader in his easy chair, coffee and comfort. Between the ambivalence with which the power (the powers) enthrone his heroes and the supposed legitimacy the media give their subjects, Vincench addresses the peripheries of these events.
Characters of Cuban life, Havana life, from right now, prominent figures in civil society who would not otherwise have entered the official galleries and the excellent symbolic connotation that he himself gives to each material used, turning it to active subject, his work grows towards the cracks that are left of Cuban cultural life, a group of artists committed to the coming market and the view focused directly in this meat slicer of heads that is self-censorship
Vincench is there and has stepped back to tell us something that we definitely need to hear.