Bruno Zupan was born in Slovenia in 1939. He graduated from the Art lnstitute in Zagreb and decided at the age of twenty-three to leave home and continue his education in Paris. In 1964 he left Paris for New York where he began a series of one-man exhibitions of his work in American museums and galleries.
Although Zupan is a citizen of the United States, he has not abandoned his desire to explore other parts of the world. He has painted the vibrant colors of Mexico, has returned annually to Paris and Venice, and has established his main studios in the village of Valldemossa on the island of Mallorca. Many of his subjects are found just beyond his door. He greatly enjoys an anti-urban Mediterranean lifestyle which gives free reign to his desire to glorify the everyday things which have given pleasure to Homer, to Byron, to Sargent, and Chopin . . . sunlight on a broken column, the perfume of almond blossom, the wet wind of spring or the smell of the sea. He is part and product of this immortal seasonal flux, and he wants his paintings to be messages from a place of rest and renewal.
Zupan is a profoundly contemporary man delicately poised between two worlds: fascinated by the dynamic tension of American culture, yet unable to deny the quiet sensuality of Europe. As the list of exhibitions demonstrates he has achieved wide exposure and critical acclaim on two continents culminating in several singular honors. In 1976 he was awarded life member ship in the Society of French Artists, and in 1981 and 1991 he received special commissions to create first day covers for the World Federations of United Nations Associations. American Artist has published an extensive article about his work. He has published fifty graphic images in Paris and Mallorca.
"Zupan's muse is light. Light is the source of color. Forms are composed of shape and color. Mallorca, and Venice are blessed with exceptionally clear light. He is a besotted lover of these landscapes which he never tires of painting. He selects a subject rather objectively from the many possibilities that surround him. Once his materials are assembled, the day perfect, his mind clear, he becomes entranced in the act of capturing the subject with his brush strokes. He is quite incapable of conversation during the execution of a painting. He speaks in colors, and the brushes become extensions of his hand. The muse compels the painting by exhibiting supernatural beauty. The artist, her mortal messenger, strives to capture that fleeting presence with his brush. Sprat, dash, thrust and splatter are forms of love making. He looks at the painting the night and morning after completion and puts it away. He does not exist with the painting much longer. That great explosion of energy and concentration, compressed desire and triumph, is done. The next day he will take a blank canvas and go out again to repeat the creative act until exhaustion overtakes him. When he views the painting months, or years, later, that energy leaps from the surface. It never dies or lessens, but goes on beyond the moment of creation to repeat the message infinitely: Look! Respond! Worship with me, the painter, this earth upon which we have shared an intimate moment:"