Pop surrealist Paul Torres, was a pop surrealist-even before the term was coined-as his long term friend-Lance Richlin will attest, which I guess makes him one of the Godfathers of the movement. On evidence of his extensive cannon, his proliferation certainly earns him the moniker.
http://www.paul-torres.com
The themes however, offer a more abject and detached form than the claustrophobic limitations of such supine category,even if the bombshells with scud missile breasts, and pneumatic pumped hunks in faded tats, inform the diet of comic books Paul ingested in his native Chile.
Its the corners of the canvases that discern with their disquiet-decapitated heads and disembodied limbs, used syringes, condoms and coke bottles scattered like junk food tokens of psychopathic, psychosexual Americana. The swinging pendulous breasts of old wet hags in shopping marts, with their parasitic screaming bastards in tow-looking for all the world like a modern day fabled Snow white and obligatory dwarves of the age. Its the kind of superficially grotesque, Toulouse Lautrec might be elucidating, if he lived on the West Coast today-although I hasten to add that Paul is much taller than the diminutive, absinthe, swilling Frenchman.
Be it long-shadowed scenes of sun-drenched Venice beach or seamy downtown LA, his work peels back the lip gloss of the West coast, revealing the rotting yellow teeth barred beneath.
All artwork copyright of Paul Torres ©-reproduced with kind permission
