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#### Good afternoon everyone. [Tóc  Tóc] - Is this thing on?



*First of all, I warn all the readers that this attempt of autobiography is not a mere egocentric need for unpremeditated attention, even if i do not think that my life can be a reason for a focus of attention of large masses, I believe, indisputably that its developt is As necessary as is the existence of some of the tiniest parts of a great clock that works only with the functioning of all its gears (including its defects), this text, which he tries to qualify for enjoyment or boredom Of whom, seeking to be touched by the greatness of the whole, take the time to go through the pages of my memory, recreating only a series of selected events, in which I can say what I am trying to say, the reason for its existence, why it was created.*

*It all starts, let's say, at my 16, it could be in some lonely public park in a dirty notebook full of doodles, a few cigarettes in my pocket, and the bread of school dropouts like me, who never fit well in the classrooms, I used to escape from school because I believed that the world had much more to teach me and its  not like I have regrets of the adolescent that I was, but undoubtedly today,I  would have acted differently compared to many things unlike my previous reactions.
As I said, change my pens and calculators for brushes and spray cans, and that's exactly where this story begins.*

*He was a weird kid, he was always distracted or at least that made us think with his open-mouthed smile, my father had convinced me to join the local art academy, he told me that my talent should be polished that he supported me And so I sat in front of him and he approached me.*

*Boy*.- "Hello, excuse me, do you know why it's not worth signing up for this school?"

- ***Me***: "What's not worth it? I signed up recently, do not tell me that."




*Boy*: "It is that there is no good art where they do not let women to get naked. I have told them a thousand times to give classes with live models, and it is always the same, the bureaucratic elite that runs this institution this Corrupted by old customs and old fears, I tell you: ... Excuse me, what is your name?

***Me***: - My name is Gabriel Morin much pleasure; And I gently extended my hand to narrow his. Was a young man a little older than me with a shaved head, huge teeth and honest eyes.

*Bracho*: - ok Gabo, my name is Bracho, yes, it is that, look, I like draw, - he affirmed. I like to draw a lot, but here one spend a life time drawing dead things, that if a jar, that if a doll of plaster, that is already obsolete, look, if we want to paint like the great masters over there in Paris, do you think we should keep on painting little bottles and flowers?

***Me***: I can see your point. exclaimed followed by a laugh that escaped  me.
Well, I think you're right ....



*So I met an incredible madman, an involuntary master of those who life gives you for short periods, because, yeah, nothing is forever and it is precisely this condition that propels us forward, so the months and seasons passed, while I went through the rooms that Bracho, then my friend, detested, I learned about form and figure in the arts academy of my city, in the libraries I met Francisco de Goya, Rembrandt, Gauguin, Bosco, Duchamp, Basquiat*,
 
***"I learned that bad companies are not so bad and that you can grow upside down from adults"***, *it was happening back then, too, that an important gallery had its opening where all the artists wanted to participate for the first prize, but not me I wanted to be like the Rivera of the Bukowskys, I wanted to be controversial, to make them talk, I wanted to be a rifle in times of gag and with my art to fight the owners of the world, I wanted to paint hungry children, Displaced aborigines and that everyone would see it and it will make them feel guilty and then perhaps their daily bread would lose their taste aurora, so I could win my imaginary battles being authentic to my essence, and I think I have always been like this, for better or for worse*.

*Bracho and I were friends for 4 years, he lived in the streets although he had a house to live in, I never asked him but I guess he was not happy and that's why I decided to live in another place. He made a living making caricatures and learned what I know about it, we always slept outside the art school and he had an old discman with classical music, Mozart, Beethoven said, they were the music that was heard To enter the sky.
It happened for that time in addition, that we get tired of having no place where to expose our work, and we created a group of novel artists that was called "The Classics", As a counterattack to take up spaces where new projects of visual creation could be accommodated, because we considered and still believe it to be, that art transforms society and walks with it, coexist to feed one another, And may direct the course of the future of some, those who believe in this perhaps. But I repeat, this story does not try to advertise of any kind, are lyrics of a heart gnawed by the nostalgia of the past time that appreciates and shares his Experience with the universe, are shrieks of madness, fear of oblivion, instinctive insistence for lasting, at least in the memory of those who read these words.
Because this is life, it only ends in oblivion even if we leave the body, as happened with Bracho, one afternoon on December 31, 2007, who died drowned in one of the beaches of Aragua, at the age of 21, leaving behind To a homeless mother, a million stray dogs who would miss his unrestricted embraces in spite of fleas and filth, and to this friend, who inherited a promise, a wise pain embalmed with the accidental gift of speech, because that’s how the greatest adventures happens*.


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*Apart from dying, Bracho, far from being the reason why I write to you (because if, in this case, I write thinking that it is for the world), he made me promise him a day before he died, that i would never stop creating Art, that I would never dedicate myself to anything else, that I would always be faithful to that intuition of feeling that I came to this world, made me promise also that someday I would be in a gallery in Paris (as if it were so simple for a Boy of the province to conquer the Louvre, Musee Rodin, l'Orangerie), promises that today make me smile for their naive innocence, but that in a way they took me to incredible places in my short history of life, that humbly I deliver. For this heart more yours than mine*.

*So the stations passed with the death duel in the corridors of the academy, somehow people disgusted me and I moved away from any group or congregation of more than 3 people, somehow I graduated in 2009 and never leave To draw my demons and angels in my old puberty book*.

*It was then that I received a call that would change my life. I was 18 years old, I had never left my country, but it was my opportunity to continue my studies abroad, new winds were blowing in my favor, life is a continuous experience where God shows us his creation and experiences it through US*...

https://i.imgsafe.org/0cde2407b6.jpg Bracho


***To be continued***.