A good friend had the idea to ask ChatGPT the following: "Create a one hundred-word profile about Javier Hermida Ruiz, a painter and designer from Alcalá de Guadaíra." The application took four seconds to respond with the following:

Javier Hermida Ruiz is a talented painter and designer from Alcalá de Guadaíra, whose work is characterized by his ability to capture the beauty and complexity of the world around him. With an exceptional skill in capturing light and color, his paintings are a window into idyllic landscapes and everyday scenes that present themselves to our eyes with unique intensity. His work stands out for its fresh and contemporary style, in which abstraction and figuration blend to create images of great emotional impact. With a constantly evolving career, Javier Hermida Ruiz is undoubtedly one of the most prominent artists of his generation.

The AI composed a flattering paragraph that, while not misplaced, is also not true. In fact, it could apply to many other artists whose work is very different from mine. In the texts displayed on this website, I will try to explain what ChatGPT cannot tell you.

Not long ago, a gallery owner from Seville gave me her assessment of my artistic production. It was not something planned, but rather something spontaneous and fortuitous. After numerous compliments, she finally said, "but": "You should be more homogeneous," she said; "gallery owner's advice," I thought. I already knew then that I would not be a good fit for an art gallery. I remember that for a long time, at the beginning of my career (and not so early on), I was very concerned about what I was accused of, that of being more recognizable. Thus began the battles with the paintings, the search for the stroke, the gesture, the texture, that theme that would identify me. Finally, tired of the internal struggle, I gave myself a truce, a few moments of reflection on all that. Thanks to this, I discovered a few things.

First: one thing is the craft and another is the emotion. One thing is the style and another is the inspiration, and you have to constantly chase after the latter, corner it, and capture it by any means (if it allows itself). And how do you seek inspiration? I found my way: reading a lot, looking a lot, feeling a lot, and learning a lot.

Second: that thing about style is inevitable, it is recognized no matter what you do and what you paint, just as your gait or gestures are recognized.

Third: I had to paint what I really liked and wanted to. That decision, to be true to my inclinations, suited what I essentially am: a person with great curiosity, a dilettante (in the Italian sense, "someone who takes pleasure") and discreetly epicurean. That creative freedom I granted myself for my future peace of mind presents a problem. And it is that to paint whatever one wants, without having to please anyone but oneself, one has to detach oneself from the market (galleries, exhibitions, contests...). In my case, detaching is not renouncing, as I, like any painter, enjoy selling my paintings. Moreover, besides my job as a teacher (which continues to give me wonderful satisfaction daily), my collaboration with design companies, productions, events, and museums has provided me with invaluable and well-paid experience that has extended over time, up to this very day. I must acknowledge that in this cooperation is where I began to develop as a complete plastic, graphic, visual, and audiovisual artist, a condition I will continue to aspire to for the rest of my life.