Painting Tough Times With Bright Colours: Reynier Llanes

by Alexandra Mansilla

رسم الأوقات الصعبة بالألوان الزاهية: مقابلة مع الفنان رينيير ليانيس

6 Oct 2024

His work is so vibrant — full of life, light, and love. He paints divers, but not where you would expect them (underwater). Instead, they are in fields surrounded by flowers. He paints beekeepers — not busy at the hives with bees, but just living their lives. And then there are all the farm animals: cows, goats, pigs. None of this is random, and it is not just because he enjoys painting these things. Every series has its own story.

This is Reynier Llanes — a Cuban artist who escaped from Cuba to the United States on a boat, along with others like him. He was in jail then, but that experience didn’t break him; it made him stronger. Today, his work is exhibited around the world, and in February 2025, he will have a show at Firetti Contemporary in Dubai. You really have to see it. And before you go, make sure to read his story.

Special thanks to Mara Firetti, Céline Azem and the Firetti Contemporary team for making this interview possible.

— There was a recent exhibition at the Gibbes Museum of Art called Reynier Llanes: Passages. I assume each of the works has its own story — could you share some of them with us?

— Of course. There is a piece, a still life, which I call "My Still Life", with a watermelon, a pineapple, and a mango, and they are kind of leading the path.

This piece was made during a very personal and difficult time for me — when I was literally trying to escape Cuba. It took me around six months to make it to the United States, and that whole period involved many transitions, including being in jail for almost two months. Sometimes, I feel that we have these obsessions that reflect what we are going through at specific moments, not just for ourselves but for our community as well. This painting is part of a series called “Strange Visitor”. We have a saying that when we spot a fly, we say, "We will have a strange visitor." In a way, I saw myself as that fly trying to come to the United States, a “strange visitor.”

— Why were you in jail?

— I came to the United States by boat. At first, I imagined it would be like an adventure — like in the movies — where you experience thrilling moments, but everything turns out fine. But when you are really in it, it is entirely different. It is real, and it is terrifying. I ended up in a place with around 22 other people — men, women, children — none of whom I knew. Yet, we had to rely on each other for survival, and that sense of unity grew stronger in that difficult moment.

One of my paintings captures that experience right up until the moment when the police caught us. We were right there on the beach when they found us, and I ended up in jail for two months. I realised then that this wasn't some joke — it was serious. It affected not only me but my family as well, especially since they had no idea about my plan.

I remember the day I left vividly. My mom happened to see me getting into the car that picked me up. She was hitchhiking on her way to work, and as we passed, I remember thinking, "Maybe this is the last time I'll see her." There is something about seeing your mother in that moment and not being able to say goodbye properly — it sticks with you.

Once we were in the ocean, it was a completely different story. It is not like being on a cruise — it is terrifying when you are in a small boat, out in the open water. I was eventually released from jail, but I was still worried about the repercussions for my family. It wasn't an easy time.

The journey itself was traumatising, but it left a lasting impression on me. I remember one specific moment — around 2 pm, it was pouring rain, the sky was black, and the boat was rocking violently. I had my head resting on my hands, and I looked at the young man sitting across from me — a strong guy — and he was crying. At that moment, I knew things were bad. I felt my life flash before my eyes in those ten seconds. I thought to myself, "Maybe this is it. I am putting my life in God’s hands now because if this boat flips, we won’t make it."

After almost two days, we finally landed in Key West, which is the southernmost part of the United States. And I made it.

— Oh my God, no words, honestly.

— A lot of my paintings capture the raw emotions of that journey. The paintings are filled with the intensity of that experience — those highs and lows, that uncertainty. I often paint boats as symbols, reflecting that period of my life. While I may not consider myself a multidisciplinary artist, I do feel like I have so many ideas when it comes to conveying the essence of my work. There are emotions and stories that I simply need to put on paper. It is as if there is always something more that needs to be expressed, and painting becomes my way of channelling all those feelings.

Dear Dad (2022), Pilgrimage II, Faith and Conscience (2007) by Reynier Llanes

— That is what we are going to do now — dive into your paintings. What did you mean by the figure of the cow? What does the cow represent in your work?

— I recently made a small piece featuring a cow named Yolanda. Yolanda is kind of a fun character for me. I haven’t done many small paintings of her lately, but the first piece I made portrayed her as this gigantic animal — a sort of explorer of the world. Sometimes, she encounters natural phenomena, and I place her in these fun, weird situations.

One day, I was painting her along with a gentleman sitting on a couch, and I was listening to music by a songwriter named Pablo Milanés. It just so happened that the guy in my painting looked a lot like the musician, and the song I was listening to was called Yolanda. I thought, "Okay, this makes sense, so I’ll call her Yolanda."

I use a lot of farm animals in my pieces, especially cows.

— Yeah, but why?

— Because I am from the countryside in Cuba, my family used to raise pigs and chickens in the backyard. I was surrounded by these animals — they kind of became part of the family. You would also see cows and other farm animals in general. My grandfather had a tradition on Sunday evenings: he would gather all the grandkids around the table and read us fables. Afterwards, we would have to come up with the moral of the story. I think that experience had a big impact on me — it is like we were learning lessons and gaining insights from those moments.

I feel like, as artists, we often have these retrospections of our early stages of life, especially when we were kids. When I meditate on my paintings, I see symbols that refer back to my childhood, and it is almost like I am telling my own fables with these animals. They allow me to revisit those memories and create new stories inspired by them.

Yolanda (2017), Blue Grass (2019), Home Trail (2018) by Reynier Llanes

— هل تتمتع السلسلة المتعلقة بمربي النحل بموضوع مشابه؟ هل تأثرت بالعيش وسط الحيوانات؟

— هذا يذكرني بفيلم رعب. هو الفيلم الذي تقف فيه أمام المرآة، وتُنادي الاسم حوالي عشر مرات، ثم يظهر الشكل، مغطى بالنحل. أظن أنني شعرت نوعًا ما بالرعب من مشاهدة ذلك الفيلم. لكن على الرغم من ذلك، ظل النحل يثير فضولي. كانت أول مرة التقيت فيها بنحلة عندما كنت أعود من المدرسة المتوسطة. كنت دائمًا أقطف زهرة من الحديقة أمام منزلنا وأهديها لجدتي. في أحد الأيام، لدغتني نحلة. كانت مؤلمة، لكن تلك اللحظة ظلت عالقة في ذهني. somehow أصبح ذلك بداية فضولي تجاه مربي النحل والعمل الرائع الذي يقومون به.

بدأت أفكر في مربي النحل، راغبًا في استكشاف علم النفس الخاص بهم بشكل أعمق، واستمررت في محاولة الفصل بين صورة النحلة ومربي النحل. أردت أن أركز على هؤلاء الأشخاص الذين يهتمون بالأرض بطريقتهم المتواضعة. في العديد من لوحاتي، مثلتهم كزوجين، لكنني عمدًا لم أظهر وجوههم. الفكرة هي أنه عندما تكون وجوههم مخفية، يسمح ذلك للمشاهد بأن يضع نفسه في دور مربي النحل — لتخيل كيف قد يكون الأمر لو كان في مكانهم.

بالنسبة لي، يمثل مربي النحل التواضع والرعاية، حتى لو كنت لا أعرف الشخص وراء القناع. مجرد الفكرة تجعلني أشعر بالأمان، وأريد من الآخرين أن يشعروا بذلك أيضًا عندما يرون لوحاتي. أأمل أن تجعلهم يرغبون في أن يصبحوا مربي نحل بطريقة رمزية.

بدأت سلسلة مربي النحل خلال الجائحة. وجد العديد من الشخصيات الجديدة في عملي نهضتهم خلال ذلك الوقت. عندما أتحدث عن كونك صادقًا مع نفسك، فهذا ما أعنيه — كانت الجائحة صعبة للغاية على الجميع، في جميع أنحاء العالم، لكنها منحت بعضنا فرصة للتفكير في الداخل. كفنان، أعمل بالفعل في عزلة، أقضي معظم وقتي وحدي في الاستوديو. كان مساعدي في الاستوديو يعمل عن بُعد في الغالب، وهذا الإحساس بالمساحة أتاح لي الاتصال بشيء روحي بعمق، ربما.

سلسلة الحراس من توقيع رينيه ليانيس: مياة حلوة (2023)، إشارة نبض القلب (2023)، ترستين (2023)

على الرغم من أن العمل وحدي كان يبدو طبيعيًا، إلا أنني افتقدت عائلتي كثيرًا. كان من المحبط أيضًا مشاهدة الأخبار، خاصة مع كل ما كان يحدث سياسيًا في الولايات المتحدة. لذا، أردت خلق وهم من الأمل في لوحاتي، لإشعال بعض الضوء في وقت صعب. يرتدي مربي النحل والشخصيات الأخرى في عملي أقنعة، ولا يمكنك رؤية سوى أعينهم. لا تعرف من وراء القناع، مما يجعلهم رمزًا. كما أنه عكس ما كنا نعيشه جميعًا خلال الجائحة — مخفون خلف الأقنعة، نواجه عدم اليقين.

لقد رسمت أيضًا شخصيات أخرى مرتدية أقنعة، مثل أولئك الذين يعملون مع البخور، والفكرة هي نفسها: غياب الوجه المرئي، لكن لا يزال هناك شخص تحت القناع. أردت أن أخلق شيئًا يثير الأمل والمرونة، وآمل أن أكون قد نجحت. أريد للناس أن يشعروا بأنهم يمكن أن يكونوا مربي النحل أو أي من هذه الشخصيات الأخرى، ويجدوا القوة في ذلك الاتصال.

— هل لدى أي من شخصياتك أسماء؟ (بجانب يولاندا، بالطبع!)

— لا، أشعر أن منحهم أسماء سيجعلهم مرتبطين بشخص أو فكرة واحدة. عندما تعطي شيئًا اسمًا، يصبح شخصيًا. لذا، أردت أن أترك الأمر أكثر انفتاحًا، مما يسمح لي بالتحرك بحرية بين مفاهيم مختلفة. لا يزال الأمر سرد قصة لكن دون القيود التي تأتي مع التسمية.

على سبيل المثال، هناك سلسلة أخرى كنت أعمل عليها تسمى السائح. في تلك السلسلة، يتم تصوير السياح كمتزلجين أو غطاسين، وقد وُلِدت خلال الجائحة. إنه نوع من التحول عن بيئتهم الفعلية — مثل الغطاس الذي سيكون عادةً في الماء — لكن في عملي، أضعهم في حقل من الزهور، تظهر بين الأزهار.

أردت خلق اتصال مع الطبيعة. خلال الجائحة، عندما لم يُسمح لمعظمنا بالخروج، لاحظت كيف بدأت الحيوانات في دخول المدن. كان الأمر كما لو أن الطبيعة كانت تستعيد مساحتها. جعلني أدرك كم هي قوية الطبيعة — أقوى منا، بعدة طرق.

سلسلة السائح من توقيع رينيه ليانيس: لونا دي مي (2021)، فستان أصفر (2020)، علماء الآثار (2024)

— أنا مهتم أيضًا جدًا بعملك الفني المسمى مسافر الزمن. إنه يتكون من عدة أجزاء، وأشعر أنه شيء خاص. هناك حتى رسم لطفل في الزاوية!

— كانت تلك الفترة وقتًا خاصًا جدًا بالنسبة لي أيضًا عندما كنت أعمل على تلك اللوحات. كان لدي عرض كبير في متحف في الولايات المتحدة، وهو أمر أفتخر به كثيرًا. كان ذلك في معهد باتلر للفنون الأمريكية. كان هذا المتحف قد عرض سابقًا فنانين أمريكيين فقط، وكنت أول فنان لاتيني يتم عرض أعماله هناك. كرست المعرض لابني.

كنا نخرج لتونا من الجائحة، لكن كان لا يزال هناك الكثير لنستوعبه — تحديات عديدة حدثت خلال تلك الفترة. كنت قلقًا على مستقبل ابني. كان أحد الأعمال عبارة عن جدي صغير ذو رأس أسود يستريح على مكتب مدرسي. في خلفية اللوحة، يوجد لوح كتابة — رمز بالنسبة لي، يمثل المكان الذي يكتب فيه المعلمون الدروس. على اللوح، هناك رسم لحافلة مدرسية، تمامًا مثل الرسوم البسيطة التي كنت أعملها عندما كنت صغيرًا. كانت تلك اللحظة صعبة جدًا عليّ؛ كانت اللوحة كلها تحديًا، لكن إنشاء ذلك الرسم بطريقة الأطفال كان مؤلمًا بشكل خاص.

أيضًا، خلال تلك الفترة، كان هناك الكثير من حوادث إطلاق النار في المدارس. لا أستطيع تذكر جميع التفاصيل، لكن كان هناك حادث إطلاق نار واحد واسع النطاق قُتل فيه 12 طفلًا. أردت الإشارة إلى ذلك حيث تغطي البرامج هذه المآسي، لكن هناك دائمًا العديد. في اللوحة، على اللوح، هناك اثني عشر كائنًا — either زهور أو فواكه. تمثل الأطفال الذين فقدوا. هناك أيضًا كرة أرضية تدور بسرعة. في بعض الأحيان، تتمنى أن تتمكن من التحكم في الزمن فقط لمنع حدوث هذه الأحداث الرهيبة. لم أشارك هذه القصة من قبل؛ شكرًا على سؤالك.

Time traveller (2022) by Reynier Llanes

— Okay, and I also noticed — maybe I am wrong — but your works until 2022, or rather 2021, are darker. From 2018 to 2020, they have dark tones. After that, it seems that your works include more flowers, more details, brighter colours, and more light.

— That is interesting. Now that you mention it, it could be true — I might have approached things differently at different periods. I do know that my style changed in 2020. That is what I was trying to convey earlier about wanting to be true to oneself. Talking about 2020 is significant to me, and it was an important time for my work. Three of my most promising shows were cancelled that year. I had just opened a big exhibition when they announced that all non-essential businesses had to close. Naturally, the art world got caught up in that as well. No one knew what was going to happen, how we were going to survive, or how we were going to make ends meet.

Suddenly, I had all this time on my hands, and I thought, "Maybe this is the right moment for me to explore what I have been wanting to do for so long." You get caught up in the production routine and keep pushing certain ideas aside. But with everything cancelled, it felt like a great opportunity to bring those ideas to life — not just for me, but ultimately for others to see as well.

That is why I feel you have to embrace change. Once I felt comfortable with my materials — with the brush and the paint — I realised I needed to challenge myself again. I don’t like to stay in my comfort zone when it comes to my work because then I feel like I am just repeating myself. That doesn’t mean I will stop painting certain subjects — they are part of my artistic obsession. And I am sure I will discover even more themes in the future.

But I am actually glad things turned out the way they did because the result of that period — from 2020 until now — was a new body of work that I might not have created otherwise.

— So, next year, you have a show in Firetti Contemporary! Tell us about it, please.

— Honestly, I fell in love with Mara and Céline's strong vision; they are both incredible. I saw how they were dealing with the audience and how they presented the artists, and I fell in love with what they were doing. We made our first connection, and then, about a year later, Mara reached out, saying they would love to start working with me and representing my work. I was very excited, so of course, I said yes.

Then we decided to have a solo show of my work. Céline has this quality — it is like when you see a flower, and as you approach it, you can sense its fragrance. You can tell the kind of beauty the flower can offer, and I feel like she does that with my work. She knows how to see it, read it, and understand it so beautifully.

The first time she collected my work, it was from different series: The Poet Series, The Keepers, and The Tourist. I remember thinking, "Wow, she really understands the essence of it all." It felt almost magical. Later, she suggested that we have a show dedicated to my poet paintings. The Poet Series features these transformative characters, and I started creating them during the pandemic. The series became unexpectedly popular on the internet. I wasn’t trying to create a huge impact — I was just staying true to myself — but people really connected with those paintings.

Céline came up with the title for the show: Reverie. She drew inspiration from the philosopher Gaston Bachelard and his concept of the spirit within us — how we find that spirit through meditation or through contemplation of art, reflecting deep layers of emotion. When she sent me her first draft of the concept for the show, it was perfect. I immediately agreed, and I knew it was the right time to start working on these poet paintings again.

I already have a few sketches — small ones. I use sketching a lot as part of my process. Sometimes, I go directly to the canvas, but I tend to have short-term memory, so I forget my ideas easily. I need to draw them first. If I just write them down, it is not the same — I lose the visual aspect of what I wanted to express. I am very visual, so I make these quick sketches, and it has become a daily habit for me. I draw every day, and now I have a whole library of ideas.

Solar by Reynier Llanes

One sketch I did recently sold right away when I posted it on Instagram. It is called Solar. I made it while on vacation — I think I was in Florida at one of the beaches there. It was incredibly hot, pure heat. I hadn’t realised just how hot it could get in places like Dubai until then. At the time, there was so much news about climate change that I also found it interesting. So I sketched this painting of the poet, looking back over his shoulder at the viewer, with the background hinting that he was part of the sun itself. It is a small piece, but I plan to create a larger version — maybe something that really radiates off the canvas and captures your eye.

We are planning to include around 15 works for the exhibition. I am really looking forward to putting it all together.

— Who is your biggest critic?

My father is one of them, definitely. He often visits my studio and questions the symbolism in my work. For example, he once saw a painting of a boat flying against the backdrop of the universe and told me, "You should put the boat on the water." I told him, "No, this is my transformation of reality; this is how I see the world." I like to break away from the ordinary and transform everyday life into something unexpected — if that makes sense.

by Alexandra Mansilla

رسم الأوقات الصعبة بالألوان الزاهية: مقابلة مع الفنان رينيير ليانيس

6 Oct 2024

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