Painting Tough Times With Bright Colours: Interview with Artist Reynier Llanes

by Alexandra Mansilla

Painting Tough Times With Bright Colours: Interview with Artist Reynier Llanes

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

— Does the series with the beekeepers have a similar story? Was it influenced by living surrounded by animals?

— It reminds me of a horror movie. It is the one where you stand in front of a mirror, call the name like ten times, and then the figure appears, covered in bees. I think I kind of felt trauma from watching that movie. But despite that, bees have always fascinated me. The first time I encountered one was when I was coming back from middle school. I would always pick a flower from the garden in front of our house and give it to my grandma. One day, I got stung by a bee. It was painful, but that moment stuck with me. It somehow became the beginning of my fascination with beekeepers and the amazing work they do.

I started thinking about beekeepers, wanting to explore their psychology more deeply and eventually tried to separate the image of the bee from the beekeeper. I wanted to focus on these people who care for the earth in their own humble way. Many times in my paintings, I have represented them as a couple, but I intentionally never show their faces. The idea is that when their faces are hidden, it allows the viewer to place themselves in the beekeeper’s role — to imagine what it might be like to be in their shoes.

For me, beekeepers represent humility and care, even though I may not know the person behind the mask. Just the concept makes me feel safe, and I want others to feel that, too, when they see my paintings. I hope that it makes them want to become beekeepers in a symbolic way.

The beekeeper series started during the pandemic. A lot of new characters in my work found their renaissance during that time. When I talk about being true to yourself, that is what I mean — the pandemic was incredibly hard for everyone, for the entire world, but it also gave some of us a chance to look inward. As an artist, I already work in solitude, spending most of my time alone in the studio. My studio assistant mostly worked remotely, and that sense of space allowed me to connect deeply with something spiritual, perhaps.

The Keepers' series by Reynier Llanes: Sweet Waters (2023), Heartbeat Signal (2023), Tristan (2023)

Even though working alone felt natural, I still missed my family a lot. It was also stressful to watch the news, especially with everything that was going on in the United States politically. So, I wanted to create an illusion of hope in my paintings, to bring some light in a difficult time. The beekeepers and other characters in my work wear masks, and you can only see their eyes. You don’t know who is behind the mask, which makes them a symbol. It also reflected what we were all experiencing during the pandemic — hidden behind masks, facing uncertainty.

I have also painted other masked figures, like those who work with censers, and the idea is the same: the absence of a visible face, but still a person underneath, behind the mask. I wanted to create something that evoked hope and resilience, and I hope that I have succeeded. I want people to feel that they could be the beekeeper or any of these other characters, finding strength in that connection.

— Do any of your characters have names? (Besides Yolanda, of course!)

— No, I feel like giving them names would pin them to a single person or idea. When you give something a name, it becomes personal. So, I wanted to leave it more open-ended, allowing me to move freely between different concepts. It is still storytelling but without the constraints that come with naming.

For example, there is another series I have been working on called The Tourist. In that series, the tourists are depicted as skiers or scuba divers, and it was born during the pandemic. It is a kind of transfiguration from their actual environment — like a scuba diver who would typically be in the water — but in my work, I place them in a field of flowers, emerging among the blooms.

I wanted to create a connection with nature. During the pandemic, when most of us weren’t allowed to go outside, I noticed how animals started coming into the cities. It was as if nature was reclaiming its space. It made me realise how powerful nature is — more powerful than us, in many ways.

The Tourist series by Reynier Llanes: Luna de Mi (2021), Yellow Dress (2020), The Archeologists (2024)

— I am also really interested in your artwork called Time Traveller. It consists of many parts, and I feel like it is something special. There is even a child's drawing in the corner!

— That period was a very special time for me as well when I was working on those paintings. I had a big show at a museum in the United States, which I am very proud of. It was at the Butler Institute of American Art. This museum had previously only featured American artists, and I was the first Latin artist to be featured there. I dedicated the show to my son.

We were just coming out of the pandemic, but there was still so much to process — so many challenges that had happened during that time. I was worried about my son’s future. One of the pieces was of a baby goat with a black head resting on a school desk. In the background of the painting, there is a chalkboard — a symbol for me, representing where teachers write lessons. On the chalkboard, there’s a drawing of a school bus, just like the simple drawings I used to do when I was little. That part was really hard for me; the entire painting was challenging, but creating that childlike drawing was especially difficult.

Also, during that time, there were a lot of school shootings. I can't remember all the details, but there was one mass shooting where 12 children were killed. I wanted to reference that since programs cover these tragedies, but there are always so many. In the painting, on the chalkboard, there are twelve objects — either flowers or fruits. They represent those lost children. There is also a globe spinning fast. Sometimes, you wish you could control time just to prevent these horrific events from happening. I have never really shared this story before; thank you for asking.

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