Rain Bordo

Fragments of a Former Empire: A Review of Rain Bordo’s Latest Work

At first glance, Fragments of a Former Empire feels disappointingly static. The composition—warm hues swirling in curved gestures—seems almost decorative, like something designed to complement a minimalist interior rather than challenge the viewer. The lines suggest movement, but not urgency. The palette is rich, yet familiar. It’s easy to dismiss the piece as another abstract indulgence, pleasant but forgettable. In a gallery filled with louder, more confrontational works, this one risks fading into the background.

But then I met the artist.

Mateo Balaban, known as Rain Bordo, doesn’t speak about his paintings as objects. He speaks about them as thresholds. And suddenly, the image I had labeled “boring” began to shift. The title—Fragments of a Former Empire—isn’t poetic fluff. It’s a declaration. The “empire” is not political, not historical, but emotional. It is depression. And the painting is what remains after its collapse.

Knowing this, the warm tones no longer feel safe—they feel earned. The sweeping lines are not ornamental; they are remnants of battles fought in silence. The composition is not static—it is exhausted. It is what’s left when the war ends and the dust settles. It is the quiet after the scream.

Rain Bordo paints with empathy, not ego. His work doesn’t demand attention—it invites reflection. And that’s precisely why it’s easy to overlook. In a world addicted to spectacle, subtlety is mistaken for weakness. But this painting is not weak. It is resilient. It is the visual echo of someone who has walked through fire and emerged with tenderness intact.

So yes, I was wrong. This painting is not boring. It is brave.

It doesn’t shout. It listens.

And if you’re willing to listen back, you’ll hear the story of a man who dismantled his own empire of despair—and chose to leave behind not ruins, but fragments of light.