Many have called Juan Muñoz a storyteller.

The real question is are you willing to give a story replete with morphing disfigured people a chance?

Muñoz was born into a wealthy cultured family in Madrid. As a child, it did not take long for Muñoz to find school a total a bore, and he ultimately got himself expelled at the ripe age of twelve. Luckily his family was far from struggling, which afforded young Muñoz the opportunity to learn under one of Spain’s top poets and art critics. Turns out getting the boot from middle school was one of the greatest blessings in disguise. In fact, this was a turning point in Muñoz’s life. Through his homeschooling, he learned of culture and art, naturally setting the trajectory of the rest of his life.

At seventeen, he ran away from home, hitching his way to London. Most kids run away due to some strife with their parents, Muñoz on the other hand, ditched Spain to go study architecture. After two months he realized architecture was major bore number two and gave that one up, but at least it pushed him out of his homeland and gave him a good story to tell years later.

Muñoz’s style evolved to foster surreal environments often ruled by feelings of paranoia and anxiety. Abstrusely humorous sensations of the paranormal have been known to find its way into his work, leaving the viewer wondering what the hell was running through his mind on the day to day. I mean, the people morphed with beanbags are surely enough to make anyone wonder.

Perhaps growing up under the conservative and oppressive rule of the Spanish dictator General Franco was enough for him to want to break free and explore some of the wacko topics that crept into his repertoire. While Spanish culture was being stifled, Muñoz’s creativity was starting to bloom. I guess that explains why he is generally seen as one of Spain’s most significant modern artists.

Having earned such a title, naturally, Muñoz’s career became almost as superhuman as the characters in the work itself. In 2000 he was awarded Spain's most prestigious cultural award, Premio Nacional de Bellas Artes, a year later he installed a show at the Tate Modern that is generally considered his most immersive exhibition, and then BOOM, he's dead on a beach. No joke, at the young age of 48 he suddenly died of a heart attack on a beach in Ibiza. Some may call it tragic; I would call that pretty ballin'. The man made it to the zenith of his career and then died lounging on a tropical beach in the Mediterranean. Call me callous, but I think that's a pretty rock star way to go.