The Argentinian artist of worldwide renown – his humor is silent just like Buster Keaton’s, that he so admired – was infinitely voluble about his work, his sketchbooks, his cheerful discipline; on the importance of surrounding oneself with inspiring images, of not encumbering oneself with things which distract us from our endeavors, on the mystery of ideas – “these butterflies that come to us and which we must seize upon. I draw by instinct. I feel like my work goes beyond me. The meaning of my drawings often appears as an afterthought. I feel possessed, like my cat Charlie”, he says while turning towards his feline who is observing me; God knows what it sees. “Because he follows his instinct, he does everything well. He never messes up.” Guillermo passed away last year. I didn’t know. I wonder what Charlie knows.
L’artiste argentin au succès planétaire —car son humour est muet, comme celui de Buster Keaton qu’il admirait— était intarissable sur son travail, ses carnets, sa gaie discipline, sur l’importance de s’entourer d’images inspirantes, de ne pas s’encombrer de choses qui nous distraient de notre œuvre, sur le mystère des idées —« des papillons qui nous viennent et qu’il faut saisir au vol. C’est d’instinct que je dessine. J’ai l’impression que mon œuvre me dépasse. C’est souvent après-coup que m’apparait le sens d’un dessin. J’ai l’impression que je suis habité, comme mon chat Charlie », me dit-il en se tournant vers son félin qui me fixait, voyant Dieu sait quoi. « Parce qu’il suit son instinct, il fait tout bien. Il ne rate jamais rien ». Guillermo nous a quitté l’année dernière. Je l’ignorais. Je me demande ce que sait Charlie.
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