Acrylic and Tempera on canvas, 100 x 100.
No name given to it, so I guess it makes it an ‘untitled’.
©2011 Pablo Saborío
contemporary art
Black
A little something for a little world. The latest acrylic on canvas, titled: Black
Could be the last of 2010, we’ll see.
Molecules, Acrylic Painting
Haven’t posted paintings in a while. Here’s one from earlier this year:
I’ve updated my Artwork paintings page.
This site features some of my poetry (including quite a bit of juvenilia), early works in art and photography; among other productions of bliss & despair.
My art website is found at pablosaborio.com
Browse below to read my latest poetry both in English and Spanish. Or quickly jump to modern art paintings, photography, and existential quotes that have inspired me.
©2008 – 2026 Pablo Saborío
Barely Bearable – Modern Art Acrylic
Newcomers, please visit my truly good art page at: Famous Modern Art
And my new art website: https://www.pablosaborio.com/
Barely There – Acrylic Painting
“Art, which gives me relief from life without relieving me of living” – A Factless Autobiography
Acrylic on Canvas.
Being barely there, we stare right back at ” the night of the unknown abyss and the chaos of nothing making sense”
Barely Objective — Acrylic painting
Barely objective, as I started to question the boundaries between ‘self’ and ‘other’ in my life.
The point of the painting goes beyond these reflections, it is just there, the colors, the lines, the shapes, the non-evident meaning.
Barely Abstract — Acrylic on Canvas
One more. Paint is thick and with deep furrows, not really appreciated here in this pic.
Barely Abstract, because who could really tell?
As usual I invite Art aficionados to visit my Famous Modern Art page.
Lucian Freud
Impressions upon a visit to Lucian Freud´s exhibition in Lousiana, Denmark.
Solitude is heavy, our subjective isolation is inescapable. The eyes gaze nowhere, time trickles away, endlessly. The only task left for these subjects is to endure the blankness of temporality. For time flows so slowly it appears to be still. There is no resistance, a species of quiet resignation, the carnality of their human condition is effortlessly lived. Their globular faces weigh them down as if they were made of lead. The overworked faces manifest the elimination of all activity; which has turned life into a simple and plain permanence.
There is no despair, just a timeless patience. An imposed fortitude in the regions of choiceless existence in which they sojourn.
Beyond Language 
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