Guazzelli, Eloar
Eloar Guazzelli does not exist. He is one of those myths the Portuguese got tired of discovering after their arrival in South America. His mysterious Italian name only adds to the confusion.
‘Eloar Guazzelli’, in the language of the Txucurucucu Indians of de High Xingu, means: ‘he who draws with the speed of two eagles and speaks with the speed of two sparrowhawks fighting in the flaming sky of a beautiful sunset while grazing cows, cars from past decades, proud domes, and monumental streets mix together into an intricate arabesque millimetrically improvised on 21 x 31 cm sheets of paper ready to receive Chinese ink traces directed by miraculous hands destined to reveal to humans everything that occurs between every two frames of a two-hour cartoon film describing the desperation of Napoleon’s army between pools of blood, white dunes of snow, and muddy roads like the one on the border that separates Rio Grande do Sul and Uruguay and marks our should like a knife whose shine is so intense it blinds us and allows us to momentarily see comic strips that only a brain born in Vacaria in 1962 could have produced and which thinks faster than two ocelots in heat at the same time it stores entire encyclopedias, dialects of small tribes, and street names from Gdansk, always surprising us, always shocking us with truths he keeps to himself, and always occupying more space than his own body’.
As it is clear, he is a myth hard to comprehend and his analysis goes beyond the limits of this short text.
Fabio Zimbres