Isol
Illustrator. A rare species. A female species. Tenaciously obstinate in placing more teeth than strictly necessary in the mouths of her creatures. If you observe her natural work environment, it would become clear that Isol’s natural habitat is constituted of inexhaustible sketches on all types of paper, predominantly of hyperactive boys, exorbitant girls, spastically happy dogs, or cows on the brink of astonishment. Without exaggeration, I have seen, for example, a sheep-pendulum, daft and surprised, that oscillates over an individual who is unfairly tied up to a chair, rewritten perhaps by Poe or by the catastrophic fate caused by the clash between the gentle nature of the lamb and the improper use of the alleged gentleness. This is —I believe— the ultimate essence of her disproportionate trace, impulsive and astonishing.
But it is in her dogs, undoubtedly, where.
In her cows, what.
And her logical aversion towards cockroaches. Horribly satin-like, I have heard her say, and mysteriously crunchy when the first knight that crosses her path is willing to give in to her pleads and arguments and heroically crushes in order to live in peace. Without vermin.
A clear preference for little girls who talk back, gentle and capricious, similar to her younger self when she was forced to wear her hair in a bun, or clipped with two buckles. They are small demons inside little girl containers, girls who want it all and who do not settle for only a portion of everything.
The other thing that is true, and which should be mentioned about her, is that she is the nightmare of the neighbourhood’s photocopiers, friendly and simple people who are generally in the world to sell coloured glue and not to readjust black and white contrasts or make small stains disappear. She is able to defend her civic rights to a good photocopy with practically technological, indisputable arguments.
Another thing: she never looks both ways while crossing the street, she walks straight ahead like a madwoman jumping on cobblestones, and cars already know how to dodge her. This is the excuse she uses to employ her favourite strategy: zigzagging.
Rafael Spregelburd
What could you tell
her
who has already had
two
dogs
(one black and the other black
but so different)
about
colours.