The death of Juan Domingo Torres, besides the pain of her departure, multiplied reflections from friends and colleagues about his life and work. Helen Umaña, Oscar Amaya, Juan Almendares and Roberto Quesada, among others, have published notes in the list of FIAN which recreate stories and special moments shared with JDT, while in the community of bloggers highlighting the post of Poet's Degree Zero ( Karen Valladares and Jorge Martinez) and the note "Juan Domingo Torres or transfer infinite Fabricio Estrada that the poet has placed in your toddler's Blog.
In this virtual space we express our regret at this irreparable loss for the community of art and culture, because the death of Juan Domingo, undoubtedly diminishes all of us. I can not remember the penultimate time that we met in early September 2008, when invited to lecture on the work of Pablo Zelaya Sierra, seizing the opportunity in that part of his work was exhibited in San Pedro Sula, Central Bank Gallery. That Tuesday September 9, 2008, fifteen people who attended the ten o'clock to gallery witnessed his erudition and his innate talent as a teacher, Juan Domingo led us through a tour of the art history in Honduras, the work on the pretext of Zelaya Sierra. I will always remember standing in front of "Brothers against brothers," as we called attention to some details, he suddenly fell silent and minutes later, perhaps thinking aloud, said: "I hope and will never again go through this barbarism. "
But of all the writings of Juan Domingo, none has been more accurate, more akin to the ethical nature of Juancho, than Sergio Bahr, who dare to play here without your permission. Would not bother, but perhaps more assholes bother you as Sergio says, "will take to convert you wake in a showcase themselves. "And our apologies to Fabricio Estrada for stealing the picture of your blog.
Púchica Juan Domingo
As children we had a tremendous reputation for being my brother and me. No, my sister Karen, who from little girl could not leave any male catracho quietly, why, through a male sort of osmosis, the majority decided, without saying, do not argue with her.
But Liber and I, whom Roberto Sosa provided the genius at the tip of the tongue we had nicknamed "paraniños" or "alias children" as the night, as we managed to be the terror of friends My father, especially if they suffered from the helplessness of drunkenness, and we were enjoying the impunity thus be children. Pull
package fireworks in the middle of a group of Pueta asleep.
Wait behind the door, crouched for hours, to jump back and pull the beard of the painters.
get on the roof and stay lying on the tiles to fall asleep or until spend some unsuspecting writer which could scatter it pumps, whichever came first.
Púchica, Juan Domingo were the one, I think, knew exactly how to deal with terror. During that time, when you stay stay at the house of Miraflores with us, fighting all the single chair opposite the TV and invariably won the dog, Feo (who pulled his length on the cushions and laughed teaching pristine teeth to all who try to take away) games were our co-presenter of laughter, magician, Houdini, man.
As Ugly appropriated from the couch to the rest of us played sitting on the floor watching TV, playing press the button "mute" every time that Nasrallah said something stupid. He pressed a lot, that button. and my father, with fine eye for the nobility, declared that he would go on the road likely to "paint slut" and left Juan Domingo Torres, now titled as babysitter, in charge of us.
You nodded with a nervous smile and then, when adults were gone and we children were left alone with a huge smile of complicity.
Púchica Juan Domingo, I remember when 20-odd years later we find ourselves in a prom rhythm of the pedagogical thinking myself I already big and you always know ourselves as children, and talking helped me to release the records stored in memory.
As the story where my brother and I holed your water bed, than you realize to throw you into a night of much sleep and find it turned into a private lake.
As the story in which a seedling of medicinal properties, lonely decorating the coffee table, ran out of leaves, courtesy of Juana la Loca.
As the story of Houdini trick, magician's so much we talked and eventually controlled the destructive enthusiasm of paraniños .
"Let's play", I said, smiling and smiling Juan Domingo Houdini invented the game. "It works as follows," you said seriously and emerging as the great teacher who always were, while you watched us expectantly, "I'm going to tie each in a chair, and the game is that they have released their own, as Houdini would. "
So we spent happy hours, but with frowning, concentrating on freedom from bondage, while you Juan Domingo exploited to take a nap, eat, watch TV next to the Ugly, carcajearte from time to time from your room.
When finally we managed to let go, exhausted, watching with a critical eye the condition of the chairs, ties. "They want to play again?".
made us laugh so much, and years later when you and I were in Fine Arts, or walking in the center (the two shared the hobby of walking always in a hurry), or the Pedagogical who insisted on still call "the superman "by that of the old and better times, or hanging around an event at the Museum of Man, or stumbling at a party in which neither was quite sure how he came, always, always made me laugh immediately.
Púchica Juan Domingo, no matter how was my day, no matter ghosts, skeletons in the closet, nightmares, severe or small or real or imaginary or hot fucking bitch was doing or that storm was falling or what the hell was happening to our little country, I always shared a hug, a laugh, a fine joke, and you let me in a good mood for the rest of the week. Always appreciated that you asked for my brother, just remembered.
was a little, almost indistinguishable from a tinge of sadness in your eyes.
So today when, later, begin to see these messages that say we will no longer trip anywhere, I fell on the chair, not wanting to do nothing but remind you. I say you are watching in Fine Arts, and bury you tomorrow. I suspect that many and many will take to make your viewing at a display of themselves. Too bad they are so idiots. For my part I think is going to stay small school of painters, musicians and Pueta with so many people go to say goodbye. To outgrow your memory.
is also smaller, but our town and Tegucigalpa, our Honduras. A little less fun, a little bit flatter. As you say, more pads, slightly pendejas. And then laughter.
You will be wrinkling a little heart to my father, Juan Domingo.
I'm not sure I want to go to your funeral. A smile you always gave you those things and after all, Houdini was not just your favorite wizard? Sure you already planned as escape, as mocking as laugh, and emerge triumphant.
But púchica, Juan Domingo, will I miss your laughter and your magic.
Bahr Caballero Sergio Fernando
September 25, 2010
September 25, 2010
