Art history is filled with images that gaze upon Indigenous peoples. Bernardo David’s art is
about the moment they gaze back. The face on this issue’s cover is not an object for
ethnographic contemplation — it’s a subject that confronts us. Here, hyperrealist technique
isn’t about the vanity of virtuosity, but about something far deeper and more radical: making
that child’s presence so undeniable, so viscerally human, that every distance — geographic,
cultural, historical — collapses. This is the essence of Bernardo David’s work: using precision as
a tool for dignity, turning painting into an act of recognition.
His mastery wasn’t born in academies, but shaped in the unhurried rhythm of Tiradentes, the
historic town in Minas Gerais where he moved as a teenager. There, in studios and on the
veranda of his home, he learned to “observe everything around him,” developing the
discipline and patience that would become the signature of his work. His virtuosity is not the
destination, but the vehicle for a deeper pursuit — one of essence beyond appearance.
In his hands, hyperrealism becomes a form of reverence. In a world flooded with
fast, disposable images that often exoticize Indigenous peoples, dedicating
hundreds of hours to capturing the singularity of a face is both poetic and
political. It’s an act of profound respect, giving back to the subject the time and
attention they’ve been historically denied. When painting the peoples of the
Amazon, Bernardo is not documenting an ethnicity; he’s using his mastery to
immortalize the strength, individuality, and humanity of each person.