Està Calor em Evora 1983

Antonio Dacosta conjured “Està Calor em Evora” with what looks like broad, sun-drenched strokes. The ochre paint hums, the colour of noon heat shimmering on stone. I can almost see Dacosta stepping back, squinting, layering on those muted figures. What's so striking is the confidence in those ambiguous forms. Like he's saying, it doesn't need to be perfect to be true. Each brushstroke seems to ask, "What if…?" It reminds me of when I’m in the studio, wrestling with a canvas, letting the painting lead. Those charcoal grey bodies, softened with a veil of paint, remind me of Giacometti's ghostly figures. But Dacosta’s figures are bathing in a totally different light. They feel very human. They feel like a memory. It’s all a painter ever wants: to be in conversation across time, to spark a feeling, an idea, a question. And that’s the beauty of painting, isn’t it? It’s never really finished, it just keeps evolving in our minds, with each new viewing.