Last September, I was in São Paulo, at the MASP Museum.
And that’s where I stumbled upon an exhibition by José Leonilson.
His work struck me so deeply that I wanted to keep it for myself.
I wanted to steal everything from him.
As Andy Warhol said, as Picasso said: genius steals. And I wanted to steal all of Leonilson’s genius.
But I think, in fact, this Brazilian artist, little known in Europe, should be.
Leonilson’s art is textile, thread, fabric. Embroidered, stitched fragments that tell a story like an open-air diary.
He lays his emotions onto fabric pieces as others would scribble them in a Moleskine notebook.
Words, symbols, abstract figures — everything blends into a raw, fragile yet incredibly powerful visual poetry.
No excess, no overstatement. Just the essential.
A line, a phrase, a silhouette, and everything is said.
His art is stripped-down yet intense, with that warmth so typical of Brazil, a way of letting empty space vibrate.
His poetry lies in his minimalist yet strikingly powerful drawings.
Discovering Leonilson is realizing the strength of words in a world where words have lost meaning, while disappearing.
The power of letters and such simple drawings, really.
His art breathes his country. A discreet yet present Brazilian identity.
Cultural references, a way of using color, playing with language.
It’s a Brazil that whispers rather than shouts, but it never stops beating beneath the surface of his work.
Leonilson has often been compared to Basquiat for his direct approach to existence.
But where Basquiat threw his thoughts onto the canvas in an organized chaos, Leonilson, in contrast, leaves an imprint, a trace, something quieter but just as profound.
What moves me in Leonilson’s art is not melancholy, but calm.
His work is a space where one can be intelligent and talk about life without sugar-coating it with irony, humor, or unnecessary detours.
It’s truth told outright, with no embellishment, no disguise.
He offers a rare alternative in a world where everything is filtered, stylized, remixed.
Leonilson reminds me — and hopefully you too — that art can be both direct and infinitely nuanced, and still provoke a storm!
Thread, Calm and Poetry Baby!