"That's an interesting piece you have there on your wall Sy." Most friends and guests would exclaim on the artwork on my bedroom wall. It is that of a white blue-eyed boy with a saddened look and heavy teardrops brimming down his face. "What's the story behind it?" The inquisitive folks would ask. Even before I gather up the courage they'd add, "Why such an artwork though? Are you depressed?" I would then deter them off with a drink or any digression of some sort. After they leave, I often a times find myself getting to stand in front of the piece, as one would in an art gallery, and marvel at the details. Hard to ignore will be the eeriness from the boy's dead stare and the faint, yet visible, name of the artist on the top right corner: G. Bragolin.
This is the story of The Crying Boy.
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It was in 1950 along the boulevards of Madrid that one street urchin was seen roaming around for a place to shelter. This was just after setting ablaze his home with his parents inside: smothering them and reducing them to ashes in the furnace that he had created. Wherever he went, any house that he stayed in that would be considered a home, always ended up in flames. He was thus rejected and chased off by villagers from the knowledge of his arsonry. Literally, from his paths hell followed with him.
On this fortunate day, he captures the attention of one talented man: a painter by the name Bruno Amadi. Some knew him as Giovanni Bragolin or Franchot Seville. He takes this little boy up and adopts him in his gallery. Days don't go by that the local priest came running and panting at the artist's door, "Señor, ¿por qué ha invitado al diablo a su casa? Why is he with you? Let him go!" He then tapers off in the darkness mumbling the Hail Mary Prayer.
Despite the priest's warning, the artist kept the boy and it was within his stay that he learnt of his name as Don Bonillo. Locals dubbed him "Diablo" to mean "Devil" from his sinister and unfortunate circumstances of arsonry that were associated with him. The artist proceeded to do several paintings of the little boy depicting his saddened state with tears rolling down his eyes. Long afterwards, the artist wasn't spared from the touch of Don Bonillo that his art gallery went down in flames taking down his years of artistic hard work. He angrily chased the little boy away who ran and never to be seen again.
Surprisingly, beneath the ruins, dried paint, charred planks, damaged art pieces, broken brushes and ashes were all drawings of Don Bonillo laying there unscathed as original as they were. From these remnants more copies were produced through printing to the tens of thousands due to their popularity in South Yorkshire and even to the extents of other European states. However, yet unknowingly, this led to series of house fires of the bearers of such paintings. Shockingly, only one item remained from the flames: The Painting of The Crying Boy.
It was until 1985 that a popular newspaper tabloid called The Sun together with other publishers ran stories titled 'The Blazing Curse of the Crying Boy' when people emerged with their horrifying experiences after having acquired a copy of the artwork. In Kilburn two sisters had fires in their homes after buying a copy of the painting. "I saw it sway back and forth on the wall." Claimed one sister. Yet another woman on the Isle of Wight confessed, "I unsuccessfully tried to burn down the painting and ever since then I have been on the run of bad luck." It was until the Halloween of October 31st 1985 that The Sun offered a solution of a massive bonfire that saw people bring thousands of their art pieces to end up in the flames. More bonfires followed up in November to end the curse. Seemingly enough no more dark tales of house fires were heard off afterwards.
In some unknown date, in the streets of Madrid, a gruesome car accident was one day reported. The tragic had the city's fire brigade respond to the scene that saw the victims excruciatingly die strapped up in their seat belts. Their bodies were hideously burnt leaving nothing but their terrified skeleton statures to show their horrifying experience. One fire station officer in attempts to recognize the victims opened up the glove compartment to find an unburnt driver's license that read one: Don Bonillo.
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For decades, even before I was born, has this art piece graced the walls of our homes and I personally took it up to my residence in whatever city I stayed in. Days ago, my father asked me, "Do you know what caused the fire at your uncle's house when you were a kid?" Before I could take a guess, some distraction came in our conversation that had me unanswered. However, my guess couldn't be far from the truth.
The best art piece we have had that made me feel at home every time I saw it.