In an interview, you referred to this film as an “antibiography”. How do you explain this definition?
Most films that feature an artist as a protagonist articulate their narrative around the artist’s life story. If the protagonist is a famous artist, different chapters of their biography and the way they define their work and process are presented. And if the protagonist is an unknown artist, biopics tend to focus on rescuing his/her figure and highlighting an unjustly forgotten work. That’s why I say The Visit and A Secret Garden is an anti-biopic. We hardly know any biographical information about Isabel Santaló. In fact, Antonio López, the only living witness to the time when Isabel was active as a painter, admits not knowing so much about her; and Isabel’s work remains invisible to the viewer. More than a film about Isabel Santaló, I think that The Visit and A Secret Garden is a film with Isabel Santaló.
Back in 1939, Hitchcock coined the term MacGuffin to designate an element that serves as a catalyst for the narrative, which does not necessarily need to be understood by the viewer (as, for example, the dosh in Pulp Fiction). The Visit and A Secret Garden also has its own mystery. How did you think about what is shown and what is hidden in Isabel Santaló’s work and life?
From the beginning, there was a sense that the project contained several elements of a thriller – a mysterious character, an absent body of work, and a closed door. Isabel Santaló and her work are practically inaccessible. The interesting thing is not so much to reveal the mystery – something almost impossible since there are almost no historical references to Isabel and her work -, but to share an entire series of reflections that stem from its absence in art history. The mystery of Isabel and her work effectively works like a MacGuffin, as an invitation to reflect on issues such as memory and oblivion, art and the creative process, the configuration of one’s own identity, and what it means to be a woman and an artist.
The relationship established with the story of Isabel Santaló involves a series of questions about the role of women in society throughout the 20th century, from work to family. What was the importance of this political and social analysis in the conception of the film?
There are no categorical answers as to what makes some artists transcend, while others are consigned to oblivion. I always say that art is one thing, and the art world is another. Sometimes we forget that behind the names of recognized artists, in addition to the quality of their work, there is also a support network, gallery owners, critics, collectors. In this sense, Isabel’s condition as a woman, as well as her relationship with her family and the historical context in which she lived, were not at all favorable to her. This is something that is referred to in the film, but which I chose not to particularly emphasize. More than an exhortation in favor of the painter Isabel Santaló, I was interested in reflecting with her – and through her figure – on issues that are not only social and political, but also universal and human, which concern us all, whether we are involved in art or not.
