ROBBIN HEYKER / BIRDING / 16.011 - 25.01.2020

ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020 ROBBIN HEYKER  / BIRDING /  16.011 - 25.01.2020

ROBBIN HEYKER / BIRDING / 16.011 - 25.01.2020



It is often said that painting consists of solving problems that the painter has invented. The case of the Dutch artist Robbin Heyker, who splits his time between Beijing and The Hague, refutes this cliché, since his work seeks, above all else, the clarity of an all-encompassing gaze, and the forcefulness of sincere realisation.


In Birding, his first solo exhibition at Galería Alegría, Heyker uses the motif of bird-watching to make us aware of the fact that discovering something which so floods our field of vision with brightness can occur anywhere. He takes the world that surrounds him as a starting point for reference and, from there, he composes works that, via the language of abstraction, offer an agile, open and welcoming result. There is apparent immediacy, radiance and mystery, in paintings which use aesthetic impression as a way of bringing about a calm reflection on how form, plane and colour construct a new space, based on the real.


Robbin Heyker's painting looks quick, easy; it has a surprisingly playful quality that draws you in immediately. Yet it is also a work of serious and methodical composition, which affords it serenity, consistency and breadth.


When speaking with Robbin Heyker, the passion with which he talks about his childhood love of birding is striking. This passion also comes across when he describes how, in China, illegal fly-posting is dealt with by just painting straight over the posters or flyers, with layers upon layers of paint. This passion for discovering the extraordinary in the everyday is evident in Birding. It is astonishing to see how these magnificent paintings, exquisite in composure and immediate in gesture, turn into a catalogue of common birds in the enchanted gaze of the spectator, if only, moments later, to settle back into their autonomous and glowing pictorial condition.


On the other hand, Heyker is passionate about revealing his tricks - this is somewhat unusual, for both magicians and painters. He does not believe in painting that is falsely heroic, self-absorbed, serious and opaque. What Heyker does is something else: there is a beautiful simplicity, a calm earnestness as he observes the passing of nature, and a generous open-mindedness. All of these elements give his language a very powerful appeal and closeness.


If the biblical birds of the meadow did not have to worry about finding food, because divine providence guaranteed they would have it, Heyker's birds in turn are allowed to fly freely until they are birds no longer, so that, with this same lack of concern, they can live on as endless colour fields in the retina of the spectator. This might well be his best trick.


Robbin Heyker manages, in this exhibition, to make us feel indifferent about whether we are looking at a bird or an abstraction; like that child who took his eye off the scenery just when the sudden appearance of sparkling flight turned the whole view into something else. That other thing is, in this case, an exhibition with an outstanding collection of paintings.


David M. Morán




For over a decade Bobby Dowler (b 1983 in London) has collected the paintings that nobody else wants and used them as a starting point to make his own works out from. Pre-existing paintings and their wood supports come in all different shapes, sizes and styles - some have been carefully made, exhibited, sold, cherished, destested, neglected, laughed at, badly damaged and aban- doned on street corners - others have found their way haphazardly and without artists' signatures to flea markets in various countries. Eventually some of these paintings will end up in the works- hop of Bobby Dowler's where, for better or worse, they will meet their fate and be repurposed.

Bobby Dowler deconstructs his materials with his hands, tools and utilises paint, staples and glue, in order to assist the evolution of them into roughly-made ‘painting-objects'. Each painting-on-can- vas gets separated from its original wood-support (which is also later re-used in a wrong way!), re- worked, built up, broken down and partly destroyed, leaving only partially mutilated paintings and somewhat disfigured wood supports.

It is as if Bobby somehow wants to get inside the ‘painting' so that he can turn it inside-out.
Finally, after a protracted struggle (sometimes weeks, months, years pass), something unintentio- nal happens in his workshop and this surprise action helps guide a work towards it's eventual completion.



You're changing places, you wake up under another sky, wine is better and the bread here is a real substance.


You are lost as always, but you can't help it. There is nothing you like more than to wash your feet in the tornado. Wayfarer, there is no path!


Do you really believe that a tube of colour will save your life? or that it will justify something in her? Do you truly believe that it is about truth?


Scraping the pavement with your head, you have already walked upside down. You have won, you are your only hero, the village idiot, a spasmed dancer, the stammered singer, the blind and joyous painter who puts little rocks in his shoes.


The children have arrived and will not leave, the place is propitious, the blankets are light, the wind is favourable, meaning adversed. Finally nothing shines anymore, everything is True.


Humberto Poblete-Bustamante

Paris, France





We continue with our programme during this summer holidays. We are traveling accompanied with several works by artist that we have invited to use a towel as support.


We will show them around the Spanish coast were we are going to spend our family holidays.
Our goal is to share a contemporary painting proposal out of our usual environment.


Elena Blasco, Razvan Boar, Ernesto Burgos, Enrico Della Torre, Bobby Dowler, Jorge Diezma, Sabine Finkenauer, Ricardo González, Robbin Heyker, Victor Jaenada, Rasmus Nilausen, Beatrice Marklund, Mattea Perrotta, Humberto Poblete-Bustamante & Alfredo Rodríguez.


JORGE DIEZMA / LO MÁS GRANADO / 08.06 - 06.07 / 2019


If a painting is a window, a tiny painting is a tiny window. The smaller the window, the bigger the difference between the worlds that it separates; this explains why looking through a keyhole is the ultimate form of voyeurism.


It is as if, in order to see something intimate, we inevitably have to peek through a tiny gap. One gets the impression that if the window gradually got bigger, then the worlds that it separates would slowly become the same, until, if they were to merge, we would be left with nothing but an empty white loft, with little to look at.


The idea of putting together a series that includes what we like the most, both aesthetically and emotionally, is present in the mixtapes that we make for ourselves and for our pals, as well as in the collages of images plastered over teenagers' school folders. With this series of tiny paintings, I am trying to do exactly that.


ENRICO DELLA TORRE / 30.03 - 25.05 / 2019


My current works represent an investigation of the possibilities of the space of the painting. My intention is to reach the limits of its capacity to be occupied by elements, signs and mass. The search comes from an effort to discover less explored places and compositions, by legitimizing a gesture or an empty space as the only element in the painting. I work in layers, which often end up collapsing into monochrome, detached from its rhetoric and historicity.


I could perhaps refer to awareness of space, not in the sense of a limited three-dimensional entity, but rather in terms of perceiving the simultaneity of manifest and latent forms. But my interest is not only in how elements appear in a space; rather, it is the space itself that has a place in the experience of the person facing those elements.


I try to investigate the nature of space, through radical manifestations that subvert the usual manifestations, thus allowing its essence to emerge. The chromatic aspect is suppressed for the sole purpose of reducing the pictorial variables to a minimum. In using charcoal, an accessible and elementary material, I try to take full advantage of its properties while using the simplicity of the media as a stimulus.



Enrico Della Torre

ALBERTO PERAL / ABERTURA / 16.02 - 23.03 / 2019


"En vez de dibujar me imagino fragmentando la mina de grafito de un lápiz de grandes dimensiones hasta construir una herramienta tubular, horadando una boca que pueda hablar por mi, cantar o callar, echar el aliento y respirar.


Veo claramente que estoy construyendo instrumentos y que las piezas se asemejan a una flauta o una trompeta donde la posición de cada agujero marca el sonido final de la melodía"


BOBBY DOWLER / I WILL FIND ONE / 17.11 - 19.01 / 2018-19


Bobby collects and re-uses found paintings-on-canvas and wood-stretcher-frame devices that have been pre-used in the past by others. Years ago, in a state of financial restriction he started to buy these cheaply from street markets however, more recently he has been receiving donated ones presented to him by friends. He adds these to his own artistic offcuts that have built up over the years. Once in his possession he analyses the paintings through separating them from their stretchers and through ordering each (the stretchers too) by approximate size, style, format or shape.


However, in general he will physically manipulate the materials with hands and with tools, often cutting with knife or scissors, applying paint by brush and in general doing whatever he feels like needs doing, until he discovers an unlikely procedural manoeuvre that can instigate the event that will help guide a work towards its final completion.


"Developments are innately unpredictable. Sometimes I won't use a certain painting or its stretcher wood for years, or I might totally destroy it, or I will use a part one day only to put it back in storage for a future consideration the next."


The materials all have their own history, and their particularities serve as an aspect of subject matter, giving Bobby a sense of what to do and how to proceed. During a protracted struggle, a ‘wrong' stretcher is often deployed to connect and frame the painted content.


It is in the nature of the work that he cannot foresee what precipitates the completion of a particular work. The discovery experience is subversive of predictable results and in the end his conclusions are not quite - or just - ordinary paintings, but what he refer to, in his naming of them, as Painting-Objects - that is ‘paintings' that have been reformed into 'objects'.


MATT SMOAK / THE SUN, THE EGG, THE FINGER / 13.09 - 10.11 / 2018



Summer 2018

I thought to myself I should make something to remember summer by so that is what I have done. I used clothes, papers, and other pieces from my home, out of sentimental necessity, to create a likeness. Where objects preserve something of the eyes that look at them, they amass their own lifetimes. Thirty-one summers ago I was born.

Antiquity (The Egg)

The world was born from a crack
in the great egg in the sky:
From the yolk, the sun;
From the shell, the earth;
From the white, the clouds;
Dust became stars;
And from this egg all things hatched


Visions (The Sun)

Hot hell, deep north in the Carolinas
I spend summer away from the city.
Barefoot, bare-chested, sunburnt
I build an egg carrier;
it is a cradle of wood and rope
foraged from the workshop of my grandfather.



He won't see his workshop again,
so I use his shirts and tools to make a
scarecrow, his burlap and drop cloths
become my paintings.
I'll remember how to turn seeds into
flowers and plant them somewhere
between the bamboo and red tomatoes.


Kuebiko (The Finger)

This scarecrow looks like me
It wears the same shirt, jeans, and
boots as me
And it knows what I know, but I feel it
knows more
Things without eyes can often see more
In shadows of the sun, guarding eggs,
I reach for it with my finger




Hay un sutil principio de malicia -una malicia juguetona y en los límites, sin objetivo manifiesto ni enconamiento alguno- que recorre prácticamente todos los trabajos de María Sánchez (La Horcajada, Ávila, 1977). Es la malicia del que, como reza la vieja máxima latina, disimula el temor con la audacia. La malicia inocente del que juega con los demás para poder enfrentarse a sí mismo. En piezas performativas anteriores, desnuda contra una esquina, atrapada, casi aplastada por un cristal que rompería al moverse, a la vista de todos, o frotándose Uvas y queso por su cuerpo y entregándolas luego a los invitados de su exposición como ofrendas de otra relación interpersonal posible, María Sánchez sigue esos parámetros clásicos de la performance como una vía para llevar el cuerpo y la mente más allá de los propios límites del performer, y entregarlos de forma ritual al que la contempla. Y, a veces, incluso al que ni contempla ni es partícipe de que está siendo sujeto u objeto de una acción artística. El yo y el otro, contrapuestos casi con una curiosidad relativa rayana en la envidia, o un temor indescifrable a lo que la otredad pueda depararle a uno mismo, es solo una de las oposiciones sistemáticas que, desgranadas con sutileza, parecen darle sentido y unión a un corpus donde la urdimbre es casi tan relevante como la trama. María Sánchez trabaja en la intersección, también en el intersticio, de muchos conflictos tanto intelectuales como emotivos: la realidad y la representación, la presencia y la ausencia, la timidez y la osadía, lo privado y lo público, el robo y la reposición, el cuerpo y el objeto, lo legal y lo ilegal, lo íntimo y lo ajeno, el conflicto y el acuerdo.


Dice la propia artista que "desde que tengo recuerdos, en mi infancia, he querido volverme invisible, y algunas veces convertirme en otra persona". Su propia timidez y su indefensión ante el mundo han terminado por provocar un proceso contrario: una búsqueda incesante de situaciones de conflicto donde encontrarse, a la vez, protegida. Un impulso vehemente y arrebatado de relacionarse con la gente, y una dificultad notoria para hacerlo en los términos socialmente aceptados, habituales. En cuanto a esto, su trabajo termina siempre por convertirse en un revulsivo de formas ínfimas y alcances épicos.


Esta exposición, Atlas Elipticalis, parte de un robo. La artista levanta el título de otra exposición coetánea de otro artista presente en esta misma calle del Doctor Fourquet, convencida de los privilegios del apropiacionismo como un robo disculpable. Quiere ver qué pasa, qué se suscita, cual será el roce. A esta primera pieza puramente textual y sin materia, le sigue un roce más real y aún intangible. En un camino que se revela ascendente, presenta el resultado de varios años de No nos demoramos (2014-hoy) pero también de Metro (2015-16) y Los afectos (2016-17). En la primera serie de trabajos, a base de pequeños robos, se alza con trofeos nimios de lugares públicos, sustituyendo lo robado por algo propio, traído ex profeso de su casa: una taza de café de un bar, una toalla de un hotel, un salero de un restaurante, una planta de un parque... principios de un contacto vicario con el otro, que ha utilizado antes ese objeto -a veces de forma harto íntima, rozándola con labios o con el cuerpo- y al que no conocemos ni vislumbramos, y que se convierte en fetiche: pasa a formar parte de su vida y de su entorno doméstico y queda retratado como tal, en una instantánea. Con todo el asomo de la vergüenza y la satisfacción de la exposición: María Sánchez nunca regresa al lugar del crimen. En la segunda, posiblemente en su pieza más conocida y celebrada, acaricia mínimamente a desconocidos en sus viajes por el suburbano madrileño, mientras lo documenta con su móvil. Son caricias casi etéreas, apenas perceptibles: lo suficiente para que el sujeto pueda darse por enterado o no, pero nunca por ofendido o agredido. Apenas interpelado. Hay también en esto un interés comedidamente antropológico, no exento de cierto poso moral, y una culpa imprecisa, un castigo imperceptible, lógico y usual en una atea que ha crecido inmersa en la cultura cristiana. Y que, como tal, parece conocer bien y hacer suya aquella frase de Feuerbach: "La sensación es el órgano de lo absoluto". En Los afectos, la caricia se torna aún más imprecisa: toca y "se relaciona" con las sombras de los desconocidos. Anoten mentalmente el sentido de esta "relación" que es y no es a un mismo tiempo. Un espacio de nadie, pero cargado de individualidad simbólica. Intersticio.


Hay, en esta exposición, otra pieza escondida. Se titula Injerto (2018) y no ha de ser desvelada, puesto que ha de suceder y ustedes no deben estar prevenidos.

Guillermo Espinosa, mayo de 2018.




Felipe Talo is a 39-year- old man who has a son aged seven.
Felipe Talo is not called Felipe Talo but Luis Díaz.
Felipe Talo does not sign his canvases as Felipe Talo nor as Luis Díaz.
Felipe Talo signs his canvases using other names. For example, León
Fénix. For example, Lotar Fernand, as in the case of the Galería Alegría exhibition.

To sum up: Luis Diaz, aged 39 and the father of a son aged seven, whose
artistic name is Felipe Talo, does not sign his works using the name
he himself chose, but the names of other heteronymous painters
that he created and who have identities, oeuvres and lives of their own.


I have talked about signing canvases but, of course, that is
the least of it. What matters is that there is a presence behind the signature. And as
anyone who has ever suffered a loss knows full well, regardless of the nature
of that loss, great absences can turn into the most intense presences,
ghosts that cover the inner space with a vast opaque sheet.


I'm not putting my signature to this essay as an expert in art (which I'm not) not

as a great friend of the artist (which I am). I'm doing it as a witness,
because I have been close to Felipe Talo in Berlin over the last year
and a half, the period during which he has written these poems and has worked on the
pieces presented here, a time in which he has had neither
a studio nor a home and has lived by renting rooms, eight of them,
and sharing them with his seven-year- old son.


Felipe's response to this unstable and itinerant state of life
was to intensify his artistic activity, not to wait until the end of the
storm but to surrender himself to it and to find respite, refuge and a cave in the
word, a sheet of paper and some coloured pencils, in a canvas and some
oil sticks. It is, then, a body of work in the first person
that does not seek to put forward an aesthetic or to reflect on aesthetics,
but which instead uses it in a bid to survive, to conquer a
territory or to build a home and live in it: a home in drawing,
a home in painting, a home in the word.


These paintings and drawings, these Confessions of a extrem lover,
represent the landing of the artist in the most instinctive and
biological part of his existence, a landing forced by particular circumstances:
the search for a home out of love for his son.


Extract from the essay I, TALO by J.S.T Urruzola




It is 2018. I am thinking about the maps that we used to draw in elementary school where you used a strong line for the outline of a country and filled it in with softer shading. When you ran out of colors you would have to start again keeping the greens and yellows and pinks as far away from one another as possible so nobody would get confused.

When i think about Flat Earthers it conjures a magic carpet and visions of the earth from above. The earth as we know it isn't a thing, it's our experience of everything. A place of magic as much as a chart with a grid laying over it. Flat Earthers presents the work of four artists whose commonality is an embrace of the natural universe, in all its beauty and unpredictability.

Al Freeman's soft sculpture of a blue lobster residing in an aquarium filled with plants is a ersatz flip on conventional home decoration and domesticated wildlife.

Chris Hood presents new paintings rendered kaleidoscopic through backwards application. Using clip art and his own drawing Hood's paintings describe the vaguery that is romance and human experience.

Andy Robertson's temporary sculptures fall apart in the wind and are put back together infinitely by way of documentation. Composed of everyday objects rendered mysterious by their placement, Robertson's sculpture is at once too physical and too ephemeral for the gallery space.

Adrianne Rubenstein paints bucolic scenes of nature, distinguished from reality by their mixed use of descriptive and carefree brushstrokes. "The Flat Earth", a painting named for the exhibition, is a layered seascape with one onerous cloud floating in the sky, taking up all of the space.


Adrianne Rubenstein


JORGE DIEZMA / EL FLORERO EN FLOR / r.j.b.m / 15.09 - 19.11 / 2017



Jorge Diezma's exhibition at the Botanical Gardens presents still-life paintings of flower vases that point us to the bourgeois tradition, though executed in a style that gives knowing nods to amateur and genre painting, alongside other abstract and colourful paintings which, in this display, serve as a link and loudspeaker for paintings of flowers. These canvases of colour, which we might (cautiously) term ‘abstract', call to mind, in their size and hard-edge, certain Minimalist artworks, such as a number of pieces by Sol LeWitt or Ellsworth Kelly. Despite their cold outline, however, these canvases painted using many overlaid strata of oil paint generate a texture rich in reverberations of colour and rough impasto; recognisable and somewhat romantic sweeps of the brush - without going quite as far as gesturality - that seem to wish to invite us to appreciate the mere pictorial matter as we make our way from one painting of flowers to another. The piece could be compared with a subway line, with the flowers as the stops and the geometries as the journeys between them.


In these paintings of flowers, it possible to identify another connection, one slightly more deeply buried, with a certain avant-garde genre of painting. The still life was a motif repeatedly used by painters in the early 20th century and, if we look back, we can see there is no ism that did not find in it a good basis for its expression. Bearing in mind that the still life was at the very bottom of the classic hierarchy of genres that held sway up until the 19th century, one might infer that there is a subversive aspect to the choice of the still life as a subject for avant-garde paintings. What artists were doing in such works was challenging the very idea of a hierarchy, understood as a sort of stairway with steps that rise from the insignificant to the sublime. Painting in the early 20th century brought the good and the bad together in the same canvas, thenceforth forcing opposites into a strange contiguity, opposites that till then aesthetics had been bent upon keeping as far apart as possible. The paintings by Derain or Renoir in his latter days are good examples of this cohabitation, but if there is one recurrent pictorial reference for Diezma in recent years, then it is the Italian painter Filippo de Pisis, in whose work painting without any value whatsoever and painting of incalculable value are done using the same brush in a strangely simultaneous manner.


Such a mélange brought with it an entire set of new problems: if the bad and the good are now presented to us together, how are we going to be able to distinguish them? The answer was the rise of criticism, which became essential as a means to establish the value of new works, while at the same time the external signs that indicated that we were looking at an important piece multiplied. The small, tacky work painted impulsively and carelessly on a cheap, cracked canvas demanded a vast white wall, which in turn required a distinctive, immaculate building. In this way, with the passing of time, some of these paintings that were both good and bad were simply endorsed as good. How else could the market value of a work be established or a comprehensible history of art be told? However, if we look closely at many of those paintings again, or virtually any painting produced since then, we can see that they are still good and bad at the same time, and it is fascinating (and sometimes frustrating too) to perceive how opposites cohabit in a tightly interwoven intimacy that is impossible to undo.


What Jorge Diezma suggests in this exhibition is precisely that we halt to look at the paintings just at the moment prior to putting them in their place.


JOSÉ RAMÓN AIS / PARQUE NATURAL / r.j.b.m / 15.09 - 19.11 / 2017


La serie Parque Natural está compuesta por doce fotografías en las que se ofrecen diferentes vistas de un parque natural ficticio.

Un camino y un río recorren cada imagen, proponiendo una ruta por una sucesión de escenas: paisajes idealizados construidos a partir de estereotipos, referencias pictóricas y herencias visuales con las que se ha construido nuestra mirada sobre la naturaleza a lo largo de la historia.
Los métodos utilizados para la creación de estas imágenes aluden a la época del pictorialismo fotográfico del siglo XIX, cuando la fotografía, recién inventada, busca sus propios lenguajes y hereda inevitablemente los códigos de la pintura.

Cada imagen está compuesta digitalmente a partir de una biblioteca de fotografías de elementos de la naturaleza. Este archivo fotográfico está creado desde mi entorno próximo, como si de una cartografía personal se tratara, y se fusiona utilizando fondos azul-croma, métodos propios de los efectos especiales del cine. Cada fotografía de Parque Natural es el resultado de un imaginario que recoge diferentes capas y niveles de lectura, entremezclando la relación sensible con el entorno, la mirada personal, proyecciones históricas sobre el paisaje, lo sagrado, lo mitológico, lo político y la mirada analítica de la ciencia.

El concepto de parque nacional aparece en el siglo XIX. Un parque nacional puede definirse como un espacio institucionalizado dentro de la naturaleza, preservado en un supuesto estado originario, una especie de edén a medida de las inquietudes culturales de una época. Aquí se produce un paralelismo entre el concepto de monumento y paisaje. Un monumento construye una memoria ensalzando unos valores y es la escritura de la historia desde un determinado punto de vista, una imagen producto de una ideología. Se puede dar un efecto de monumentalización del paisaje cuando se convierte en depósito de esos valores representando un paraíso perdido que conecta con orígenes míticos. Parques nacionales, naturales y espacio protegidos son variaciones del mismo concepto pero atendiendo a las relaciones históricas con el medio, específicas de cada territorio.
En esta época Estados Unidos pone la mirada sobre sus enormes extensiones de tierra, que ya han sido retratadas por sus pintores paisajistas, influenciados por el romanticismo europeo. Yellowstone es el primer parque nacional y el primer territorio no expuesto a la velocidad con la que la revolución industrial va modificando y explotando los entornos naturales. Estos planteamientos son rápidamente importados a Europa. Por ejemplo, en Francia, los pintores de la escuela de Barbizón, plantean la necesidad de proteger los bosques de Fontainebleau de las sistemáticas talas, mientras que el macizo montañoso Picos de Europa se convierte en el primer parque nacional de España. La montaña pasa a ser el icono protagonista de los parques, el sentimiento de lo sublime; la inmensidad de su escala lo convierte en una atractiva imagen que, sumada a la revolución del transporte con el ferrocarril, propicia la industria del turismo. El Grand Tour, previamente destinado a las élites europeas, se populariza y la experiencia del viaje empieza a ser más accesible.

En Parque natural 1, un camino nos dirige la mirada hacia una lejana montaña, una maqueta realizada al modo de los escenarios del teatro o del cine, aludiendo al icónico monte Cervino. En Parque natural 2, un arremolinado cielo sobre la montaña evoca la furia de los dioses del Olimpo, quienes originaron los relatos mitológicos occidentales. Desde el renacimiento, la pintura ha escenificado los mitos en localizaciones naturales, bosques, ríos, etc. Por eso, a lo largo de la serie Parque Natural he representado igualmente mitos clásicos pero utilizando sus epónimos botánicos, las denominaciones científicas de plantas nombradas a partir de las divinidades. Así, el relato del racionalismo taxonómico de la ilustración se funde con el mito. (ej; Mercurio - Mercuriales perennis).

Como señala el geógrafo Denis Cosgrove, la invención de la perspectiva implanta una supremacía del sentido de la vista en el renacimiento, al identificarse visión y conocimiento. La perspectiva instaura una racionalización y sistematización del espacio, todo es susceptible de ser representado y acotado mediante coordenadas. Al mismo tiempo, los usos territoriales de la época feudal dan paso a una era de apertura en cuanto a propiedad y explotación, a lo que se suma el descubrimiento, exploración y explotación de nuevos territorios, como el continente americano por parte de Europa. Estos cambios proliferan la producción de cartografías, mapas de delimitación de territorios y sobre todo, el auge del género pictórico del paisaje. En Parque natural 7, se ponen en práctica las pautas que Leonardo da Vinci señala en referencia a la perspectiva aérea, una variante en la que la geometría es sustituida por la recreación atmosférica utilizando el color, los tonos claros y azulados denotan la lejanía. En la imagen, el paisaje se extiende literalmente hasta el espacio exterior, siendo la luna el punto de fuga, pero su imagen se acerca hasta el primer plano por medio de su reflejo en el agua. Este artificio visual, que tendrá su máxima expresión en el barroco, funciona en la imagen para representar el sueño de Endimión. Cuenta el mito que Selene, diosa de la luna, se enamora del hermoso pastor Endimión y que mientras él dorme, la diosa lo acompaña reviviendo cada noche un romance de ensueño. En la fotografía, el romance se produce cuando la luna, con su reflejo en un charco de agua, se acerca hasta la flor Endymion hispanicus, planta epónima del mitológico pastor.

El carácter visual del origen de los parque naturales nos remite al encuadre, a la ventana, algo que inevitablemente nos hace pensar en lo que queda fuera del marco, el fuera de campo. Vemos que en la historia de su creación han sido mayoritariamente lugares colonizados, regiones de imperios, territorios donde se aplica la tabula rasa, borrando los relatos y sistemas de relaciones previos, un proceso donde lo trágico está implícito. En Parque Natural 8, desde el mito de los trabajos de Hércules, en el que él debe partir hacia el inframundo, se alude al imaginario de la aventura, de lo exótico, la isla desierta. La escena representa la vuelta de Hércules desde el inframundo una vez capturado el can Cervero, vuelve de una versión exótica de la Isla de los Muertos de la pintura simbolista de Arnold Böcklin, donde exuberantes palmeras sustituyen a los fúnebres cipreses.

Toda cultura se ha desarrollado y evolucionado en mayor o menor medida gracias a la explotación de los recursos naturales, si bien es a partir de la revolución industrial cuando esta explotación se vuelve más agresiva y global. Una montaña, un río o un árbol, pueden ser el vehículo hacia lo sagrado y trascendental, del mismo modo que pueden ser materia prima para la producción. La tristeza de Ceres, diosa de la agricultura, en el mito de Proserpina parece ser muy representativa de esta época. Parque natural 6, ambientada en un paisaje invernal, narra en su versión romana el rapto de Proserpina. La desesperación de Ceres por encontrar a su hija Proserpina raptada por Hades en el inframundo, paraliza el ciclo de la naturaleza provocando un eterno invierno. Para parar la agonía de la tierra, Júpiter envía a Mercurio en busca de Proserpina y es en ese momento cuando brota de nuevo la primavera. En la imagen, la escena mitológica viene representada por la especie acuática Proserpinaca palustris acompañada de la Mercurialis perennis.

La naturaleza ha sido el nexo con lo trascendental en múltiples culturas. En concreto, la mística ha utilizado el paisaje como figura metafórica y espiritual. Parque natural 9 hace referencia a esta proyección sobre el paisaje, con la figura mística creada por San Juan de la Cruz de "la noche oscura del alma". En su "monte de perfección" plantea un recorrido hacia la purificación del espíritu, con un parada en una cueva que invita al retiro eremita, un lugar para el silencio y vaciamiento de los sentidos. El paisaje nocturno es un estado espiritual buscado en la mística, una atmósfera que es representada en la pintura española del barroco con su característico tenebrismo.

En definitiva, Parque natural plantea un paseo por 12 paisajes explorando los mecanismos de construcción de nuestra mirada sobre la naturaleza pero, sobre todo, intenta ofrecer la sencilla experiencia sensorial de un paseo.



STEFAN RINCK / Fresh meat in the shark Pool / 23.06 / 2017



Well, the title refers to Petra, a shop owner from Port Andratx. Fresh Meat is how she is considering me and shark pool is her metapher for Mallorca.


Tempted by the beauty of the pool of Guillermo Rubi we will bring a whole body of work to his fantastic house in the middle of nowhere. The focus will be his beautiful pool which he designed himself. It is 3m depth at the deepest and has an outstanding stairway.


Some of the sculptures will be displayed inside the water that they could only be discovered while swimming and diving. The visitor is asked to bring their swimming suits, their goggles and if they have their waterproof cameras.


NEIL RUMMING / FEITIÇO / 14.09 - 28.10 / 2017



In the novel ‘1984' by George Orwell, the protagonist Winston Smith, a secret rebel, yearns for liberty from the draconian control of Big Brother. During an impulsive walk through the streets of London, Winston purchases a glass paperweight from a junk shop. The paperweight is a heavy lump of glass, embedded in which is a strange pink convoluted object that recalled a rose or sea anemone. For the character Winston, this ornamental object represented something queer, outside the boundaries of the everyday and thereby becoming a conduit through which to project different conditions of being and alternate ways of thinking; allowing him to dream of other possibilities that had been previously oppressed.


The way we interact with objects is based upon specific social values that could infer a certain status or membership to a specific group. The fetish quality of an object can be manufactured and consumed through its branding, cultural status and high production values. When these capacities are overdetermined and the notion of value is associated with an exchange value rather than one of production, the object takes on a significance that is over and beyond its simple consumption. The word fetish derives from the Latin word ‘facticius' an adjective, meaning "made by art" or "artificial". This was translated into the Portuguese noun "feitiço" meaning ‘charm, spell, sorcery'.


When does an object move beyond its original determined value into an overdetermined sign that is not merely consumed but is enjoyed at a level of fantasy, desire and reverence? The fetish paintings are a reflection upon the rituals of African Shaman who use nails hit into carved wooden figures to grant wishes or to dispel unwanted curses for members of its tribe. The original man-made application of the nail is supplanted and elevated to the status of magic, sorcery and wish fulfillment.


Alongside the paintings are two over-sized intricate carved wooden panels that are exact copies of the soles of the artist's studio shoes. The viewer is asked to examine a piece of overlooked tread design from a pair of HI-TEC® squash trainers, which has been re-presented as a ritualistic or ceremonial object. The carvings are not straightforward reproductions but re-authored simulations, which attempt to alter and shift the viewer's understanding of the design's original meaning, value and application.

ALFREDO RODRÍGUEZ / LIMBO / 16.01 - 12.03 / 2016


El trabajo de AlfreDo DomÍnguez (Madrid 1976) trabajo se caracteriza por una incansable búsqueda a través de la experimentación y un exhaustivo estudio de los procesos fotográficos como fin en si mismos. Una sugerente obra que cuestiona los límites de la fotografía y abre nuevos caminos que desconocemos hasta donde pueden llegar.

Limbo es una instalación fotográfica donde priman los efectos y las consecuencias de la acción de la luz sobre las superficies y las emulsiones que encierran los restos de un material documental, un material compuesto de una serie de imágenes que nunca llegan a ser puestas en evidencia, imágenes de las que se ha perdido información a consecuencia de los propios procesos que intentan revelarlas, pero que sin embargo son el verdadero detonante que conduce a las piezas que componen la exposición. La instalación quiere dejar entrever la presencia de un material que existe en otra parte y que es prueba de una experiencia pasada registrada en forma de imágenes fotográficas susceptibles de ser olvidadas. En esta instalación predomina el uso de emulsiones holográficas, fabricadas, aplicadas y reveladas por el propio artista, estas emulsiones son de delicado trato y cualquier variación durante el proceso afecta profundamente al resultado final produciéndose multitud de posibilidades plásticas que dejan su huella y merman la información contenida en las imágenes primigéneas.


BERNHARD RAPPOLD / MONDO CANE / 27.05 - 05.07 / 2017



Mondo Cane

I got a girl named Atlas,
She gotta work for the sky-ay
And me, I am a slim daddy
But she got muscles oh my-ay.

Thai Phin Dragon
You drive my pink pink wagon
I see a passer by-ay
I pluck the string and you cry.

S - S - S - Snake Snake Woman
S - S - S - Snake Ache Man
T - T - T - Tight hip pocket
You cause me real hard pain.

Oh Snake Woman
I got the devil's atlas
Oh Habibi ri-ide
Fill me up with your chalice.

We play the bury your bone
This is my Ju-Ju- Song
Lipstick - Pickup
Body - Stone

O - O - Oh baby...
O - O - Oh yeah...
I - I want U-U
T - T - T - To - To take care...

Take me ma beby
To the Pa-Palace...
Of Snake - Snake Woo-man
To Lyre of Atlas.

He plays so Goo - Oud
She plays so fai-air
It's so bla-a- ack
So black - her hair.

Atlas I - I
Oh Atlas I - I
I love your shoulders
And I love your hair.

IÑAKI IMAZ / YOLANDA / 25.03 - 13.05 / 2017


Arrastramos, arrastro, al menos desde 1975, un sentimentalismo venenoso que no se va. Tengo en la cabeza canciones, sentencias heroicas, letras, rimas, melodías y armonías emotivas, acordes llorones que me atraviesan el cuerpo, establecen relaciones y condicionan decisiones. Atracción y repulsión que cíclicamente retorna al núcleo de mi cerebro; hace no mucho, también a las plazas de nuestras ciudades. Hacer algo con eso, en pintura: proceso incierto que encuentra en el camino asuntos ya tratados en París hacia 1913 o en Atenas en el S.III a. C.

JOANA CERA BERNAD / LAPSO / 21.01 - 18.03 / 2017


A sandglass that measures the passage of a single second watches us, immobile.
The seeming quietude is just another time.
That which is slow remains silent, the acute as well, the extremes kiss each other silently for us alone.
How much earth can be contained in a second?
And what do you use this given timespan for?
A few grains of sand, little matter, question our temporality and action.
The entire Earth is sand. Or everything is sand, sooner or later or always.
There are miniatures that look you in the eye.

WOLFGANG VOEGELE / Buck / 19.11 - 14.01 / 2016



Buck is the name of the quarter of the village in the southern black forest I grew up in. Actually it's not a real quarter, because it's only an accumulation of five to six houses on a hill at the edge of the village surrounded by woods.


Buck, pronounced [buk] in german, is an old slangword, an idiom of the area for hill. But nowadays nobody uses it anymore nor even knows its meaning. I also didn't know its meaning for a long time. I always liked the sound of the word. It has this onomatopoetic quality to me, it could have a certain meaning by its sound, but it didn't have one or more precisely I didn't know.


I used to fill it with a specific content and imagined what content the word could carry.There is an analogy to my paintings. As the idiom Buck, the forms in my works are close to meaning, but do not have a certain substance.


While painting, I like to play the game I used to play with the term Buck. I imagine and fill the forms with a certain meaning. But like it was filling the word with content, its with the paintings, the imagination changes every time I look at them. I find different meanings to it while looking. I get thrown back to myself, mirroring my perception of myself, my surrounding, the world...


Also I can imagine that the forms had a certain meaning, but it got forgotten or it is real somewhere else (like it is in english for example).


ELENA BLASCO / Por alegrías / 15.09 - 12.11 / 2016





Las alegrías las empezaron a cantar en Cádiz mientras los franceses intentaban vencer la ciudad. Ya se sabe: con las bombas que tiran los fanfarrones se hacen las gaditanas tirabuzones. Emplea el compás de la soleá, ese cante grande y dramático, pero tiene un aire festivo. «Cantar por alegrías», aunque uno no sepa nada de flamenco, es una expresión hermosa. Ocurre, sin embargo, que suele confundirse lo festivo, lo alegre, con lo superfluo. Hay una alegría que dice «aunque pongan en tu puerta / cañones de artillería / tengo que pasar por ella / aunque me cueste la vida». Vale que no es un verso de Góngora, pero me dirán ustedes si ahí, en esos cuatro octosílabos tontos, no están resumidas la mitad de las verdades del amor.

«¿Cómo voy a hablar de estas cosas tan terribles sin color y sin humor?», me dijo Elena la única vez que hablamos. Me contó que su proceso comienza cuando se encuentra un material. La arcilla le parecía que era como una tela. Después, trabajando con ella, entendió que la idea de un Dios alfarero no era descabellada. Con las lanas, algo similar: una fascinación. «Nada es racional», me dice. «Hacer las cosas sin saber por qué es lo más interesante». También me dijo que para ella la decisión de comprar o no un material es una batalla, igual que si estuviese pintando. Una refriega de estímulos que no sabe muy bien qué pretenden. Va a ciegas, sin premeditación, y se topando con las cosas por el camino. «Yo lo acepto graciosamente».

Al color le pasa lo que a los cantes ligeros, que lo toman por frívolo. O por decorativo, esa palabra que con tanta crueldad se usa en arte. «El color es el gran desconocido del mundo». Bajo esta divisa, la obra de Elena Blasco despliega una paleta atrevida y luminosa, cuidada y precisa. Hay en todo ello algo liberador. Las cerámicas de esta exposición son una presencia amigable y hermosa, una atrayente yuxtaposición entre lo pulido y brillante y lo mullido. Hay en ellos como una naturaleza de cronopio. Son unos enseres felices con los que uno desearía convivir.

Al fin y al cabo, lo «serio» no es más que una trinchera, que exige llegar con el paso marcado para que a uno le dejen pasar. Si ha de haber algo medio revolucionario, espero que venga cargado de ironía.

Joaquín Jesús Sánchez



SINÉAD SPELMAN / This condition / 04.06 - 02.07 / 2016



This Condition, named after a short text by Lydia Davis. This Condition might be stirred by anything opening, anything dripping, anything tightening or filling, anything coming out of anything else. Infact it could be your very presence in the gallery which provokes this condition, be you man or woman, fat or thin, naked or dressed, or it may be the sounds you make which arouse it; your soft cry or grunt or indeed your movements; your figure slipping in and out of the doorway, your hand searching in your purse, alighting on someone's shoulder or stroking the smooth white walls of the gallery with it's curved corners. C?ould they be little indents in the platitude of our existence?

Group Show / 19.03 - 28.05 / 2016


All the best/yours sincerely: Radical Positions in London Painting Today

Susan Collis / Bobby Dowler / Andrew Mealor / Matthew Musgrave / Lucy Stein / Humberto Poblete-Busamante


Galería Alegría is pleased to present All the best/yours sincerely: Radical Positions in London Painting Today, an exhibition curated by the Chilean artist Humberto Poblete-Bustamante, who now lives in London. He and five other artists from the British capital - Susan Collis, Bobby Dowler, Andrew Mealor, Matthew Musgrave and Lucy Stein - present works that reflect the new dynamics and new interests and demands of this city today.


The idea of painting is a strong presence in the artists' works, expressed in an extremely affirmative manner far removed from the denial of the 1970s. Even so, they question painting- at the very time when everyone is talking about the ‘return of painting' - and this itself enables them to penetrate deeper into it, passing through the interstices that this examination opens up without falling into a mere showy production of no less spectacular images than those to which London has accustomed us in recent years, namely the work of the Young British Artists.


The works presented are connected by their direct and uncompromising relationship with painting, not as an art of representation or as a medium for producing canvases. The paintings by these six artists clearly reveal their critical aspect to the idea of the easel painter pursuing a chimera, be it light, a mental imaginary or the very idea of producing a good painting. There is a difference between word ‘Painting' and the word ‘Pintura' in Latin and its platonic and fixed aspect due to the notion of movement in an absolute Present that the English term contains. Painting only exists when it is being done and as it occurs.


In this extreme Present, the Canvas as an object is undergoing a dissolution; it is being shaken by an earthquake lasting a total instant. This makes it impossible to give a linear account that would structure a possible Painting conceived in advance. Let us say instead, then, that through Painting in conceptual and physical turmoil, the Canvas is casting off any possible storytelling role, thereby turning its surface and its components into meaning, so much so that this means nothing other than presence. In this dynamic, paint likewise frees itself from its nominative nature as a particular material; it is no longer equivalent to oil on canvas, an equation that is no longer an absolute that one can cling to and which ensures the title of Painting, still less the title of Painter. On the contrary, only by delving into its nature as a Language can these Artists accede to knowledge, Painting, be it with colours or materials other than conventional ones.


Consequently, in the exhibition we find all kinds of materials and every type of relationship with the Canvas and with Painting, perhaps and not just in part thanks to the digestion of an entire London history, since these experiments echo the experiences with which the capital has always played in spheres other than just the plastic arts. These artists are familiar with rock, punk, electronic music, etc. and everything that they have given English society to prevent it from fossilising. These types of music have been a force majeure in recent decades and a greater influence on these artists, just like the formal experiences of the modernist Avant-garde movements of the 20th century.


The exhibition plainly shows through tremendous formal tension that the canvas and Painting are not one and the same and that it is important to distinguish between them by demonstrating that as the canvas is the container, its content is Painting itself and not the possible image that it may convey. The Painter freed from his role as image maker embraces the Freedom offered by this language, and all this language has to do is exist in his experimentation. While this may seem like a process of Deconstruction, there is no abandonment here of the Drama that confers pure and simple Destruction itself to the traditional pictorial process and to the process of a meaningful search for the ultimately poetic phenomenon of the work, since what is being presented in All the best/yours sincerely: Radical Positions in London Painting Today are veritable works of Art and nothing but works of Art.


Humberto Poblete-Bustamante

RICARDO PASSAPORTE / 16.01 - 12.03 / 2016



When we look to Ricardo´s paintings it seems to be somehow contradictory. If we think that the LIDL logo is a result of countless tests to reach a "perfection", it will automatically lead us to something that resulted from something methodical, clean and functional. Unlike Ricardo´s painting that requires a good level of self-discontrol" as if he has no respect for the canvas itself but respects the aesthetic of the logo design.


Ricardo Passaporte rejects his painting skills, focused only in the medium and in the matters, he paints with his right hand as if he couldn´t control the spray can properly or if it was the left hand. There is a relation between creation / destruction where it´s impossible to know what comes first.

MICHAEL HORSKY / Amores perros / 14.11 - 09.01 / 2015



The combination of such brazen scenes and such a singular palette make it tempting to imagine that Michael Horsky's paintings are the progeny that would have resulted if Goya's cartoons had been painted by De Sade. Horsky practises a painting so rude to the spectator that it would fail were it not for the fact that there is something hypnotic in his works that forces us, amid the heap of bodies, so many gonads and so much aberration, to continue looking at them.

Even though Horsky's painting is figurative, his commitment to representation is open to doubt, not just because of the way his subjects are fragmented and remixed, but because of the fluidity of his brushwork, which is fundamentally decisive and placed at the service, not of figuration, but of a sensuality that reveals itself through the voluptuousness of the colours. The inhabitants of his tumultuous scenarios are heaped up and gasified and, as a result of the dissolution of their edges, we are offered a kind of profoundly pictorial, powerfully colouristic vapour.

The formless, as philosophers have said at length, tends to be immoral. In our nostalgia for clear and different ideas, we remember that confusion only leads to failure. The crudeness of the scenes Horsky paints is based on this idea and is twisted by the artist through his use of traditionally decorative forms: pastels and oval and round formats. Decorative, deeply bourgeois art demands the soothing and the inoffensive. In contrast, Horsky presents a catalogue of deformities and elongations that are unlikely ever to preside over a tearoom. Clearly, it is not just a matter of the gruesome nature of the scenes but the way they are produced. In the line or brushstroke, we see a selfless determination, a violent and contingent exercise that applies the colour of an intentionally kitsch palette. The spectacle Horsky portrays confronts the spectator, and only if the viewer is able to hold its gaze beyond his initial and more than justified rejection of it can he enjoy the sensuality of a sinuous and playful painting. The ease with which Horsky resolves expressions and gestures is very often astonishing. He paints by layers and the final scene, the one closest to the surface, does not necessarily tell of the others. Horsky's painting buries his subjects without any concern for them or, for that matter, the spectator. Horsky is only interested in his painting and is prepared to ride roughshod over everyone and everything else.


Joaquín Jesus Sánchez

STEFAN RINCK / 12.09 - 07.11 / 2015


The Ethernal comedy of the creatures.


When we look at ancient sculptures, we expect them to talk to us, but the fact is that they do not even see us, they "ignore us". The "botany of death" cultivated by the West has turned these "mutilated traces" of bygone civilisations into lifeless museum pieces or "art of the flower-pot". These are words taken from the beautiful argument put forward by Chris Marker in Les statues meurent aussi, which takes us back to the times when these "severe dolls" that we call idols were the "guarantee of accord between man and the world".


The pieces by Stefan Rinck bear witness to the breaking of this pact between life and death. They are aware of the silence of the stone, of the profanation of their enigma over the centuries, of their subservience to Manichaean idolatry and demagoguery.


As an act of humility, though one imbued with a delicate irony, Rinck demonstrates, for example, the impossibility of interrogating an African mask: his subconscious mixes it with the vision of a GDR Stasi agent and a hipster from the Neukölln neighbourhood in Berlin (Observer).


He uses sandstone, the same type of stone employed in medieval capitals and gargoyles to reassign diabolical characters to the rich bestiary of Graeco-Roman and Byzantine times. He restores the signic ambivalence to these sly monsters (simians, dragons and the like).


He plays with ambiguity and misunderstanding by laying down a number of different strata of interpretation in a single icon: pointed hats are a reference to the Inquisition's hood but also to the headdress worn by fairies; ruffs elevate figures to the nobility, but other attributes betray their chimerical status (masks, jester's hats, etc.). Fable and history are inextricably intertwined.


His syncretic sculptures are the result of casting nets out over the history of forms and meanings, eventually joining Mayan pyramids with Brancusi's Endless Column. Both poetics of ascension, based on the belief that we transcend beyond death, are mocked by Pinocchios and other charlatans whose busts crown these perfect geometries.


Skulls are common in Rink's iconographic repertoire. However, far from representing "the roots of the living" (like the ancestors sculpted by Africans or revered by Mayans), they remind us of tragic fates (Orpheus and Eurydice, despotic rulers, etc.) or laughable beings such as Priapus after death, a skeleton with an erect phallus whose regenerative symbolism is cancelled out by its own fleshless condition.


The blind troglodyte led by a minotaur's mask sums up this struggle between instinctive violence and the spiritual aspirations that have always guided human beings, who are incapable of finding a way out of the labyrinth that they themselves have constructed using the bricks and mortar of superstition, deception and an urge to dominate.


Anna Adell

HUMBERTO POBLETE-BUSTAMANTE / 21.03 - 14.05 / 2015



Ooo She does, yes She does!

The difference between abstraction and figuration-this opposition being viewed in the light of a new strategy to defend the main traits whereby we recognise them-is probably not determined by the aesthetic dogmas that are inherent in and which share in the poetic and presential flow of their respective universes. Rather, it is the outcome of the relationship of these two territories of diverse interpretative signification with and their commitment to Time as the ‘maker' (other, invisible and parallel to the making of the artist) of the formal construction of the work. These two realities are, of course, ‘poetic'; moreover, they are ‘poetic' in the same way that Barthes understood the concept of ‘poetry in art': the search for the inalienable meaning of things. ‘Things', facts, can only be ‘time', but whereas in figuration time bedecks itself as identificatory, relational or historical, in abstraction it chooses to immerse itself in a perceptive emotion that lacks a compass by which to navigate-the cardinal points that that are always a ‘place in history' having been eliminated-opting instead for an oceanic dimension (which is undoubtedly also a ‘place' but one that is unrecognisable, a ‘non-place') that restructures the very idea of ‘seeing'. There is, however, a point at which abstraction and figuration recognise each other in a fleeting shot/reverse shot, coming to see each other before a single reflection. This point stems from a shared desire to prevent any escape, as Pavese magnificently puts it in This Business of Living, in which he says "no thought, however fleeting, however secret, passes from the world without leaving a trace."

In the exhibition of work by Humberto Poblete-Bustamante(Santiago de Chile, 1966) at the Galería Alegría in Madrid, there are as many tracks and traces as there are thoughts and reflections, the former being visible and signified, whereas the latter are invisible and organise meaning. In this show, entitled Ooo SHE DOES, YES SHE DOES!, the artist presents us with works from his "Garden Paintings" series. One highly significant fact when it comes to commenting on the work of an artist with whom I was unfamiliar till now is that this ignorance allows you a certain ‘explicative' liberty, or it places you in the open territory of ‘free' speculation that is not indebted to previous temporal referents nor contingent on prior knowledge of the artist's work or life. Consequently, the analysis forces you to a consideration en abyme, not so much vis-à-vis the artistic work being discussed but instead as regards your own position in relation to it. In short, you have to accept a degree of agitation in your own thinking and writing. Or, to put it another way, you have to re-inscribe yourself in the strange temporal cadence you are pushed into by the very act of contemplating the works.
Are we really certain that what we are looking at is ‘solely' well-executed paintings, canvases painted with an unconcealed mastery in the resolution, strategically positioned blots and bands of optimistic colours, abstractions signalled by the boldness of the brushwork that could be described as ‘cheerful and confident'? The artist is undoubtedly hiding something from us, perhaps unwittingly, and he is of course even less interested in confusing the spectator with ‘conceptual' traps. Even so, it is the abstract imagery itself (so sophisticatedly ‘European' or historical/avant-garde yet keeping at an arrogant distance from these cultural parameters) that leads you to suspect that there is an extra measure of mystery, an additional refined enigma. As we draw closer to the paintings (as they demand and which is advisable), it seems that the abstract ‘oceanic dimension' mentioned earlier recedes, giving way to a ‘figurative' consideration of these blotted canvases. It is now that we see appear, with great subtlety, the signs and marks of the artist's body in motion, the traces of a humanity in the exercise of a creativity that it is always more demanding than it seems; the successes and failures of a pictorial gesturality that refuses to make do with being solely ‘abstract' but also wants to be ‘figurative'. Having reached this point, we can state that the canvases have indeed been painted, but it would be no less important to say that they have also been manipulated, prepared, ‘insulted', blotted or spotted. They have, without question, been lived, but not in the sense that every work has been ‘experienced' (to do otherwise would be impossible) by the artist during the process of its configuration, but ‘lived' as a constituent element in the germination of the piece, and this is what the spectator will interpret as enigma and mystery, or as a certain idea of intelligent and productive artistic clandestinity.

The work of Poblete-Bustamante is undoubtedly ‘Time', but we would not be wrong in saying that it is also expanded ‘Nature', pictorial land art, earth art on a canvas on a stretcher. As you enter the gallery, the ground gives under your weight; in other words, you feel the gravity of your own ‘physicality': the floor of the exhibition space has been covered and maintained using a natural grass lawn. Nature unquestionably also ‘paints'. We can also say that in the artist's work Time-an essential element in his oeuvre-is ‘European', which I put within inverted commas due to the elegant distance from the continent where he was not born but where he lives. Now, the treatment of Nature, which is no less essential than Time, is decidedly South American, namely Chilean, and here no inverted commas are in the least bit necessary, as there is no distance or problem in relation to this reality. I am convinced that the wise union of Time and Nature from different cultural and geographical realities is the main factor that sparked my (considerable) interest in Poblete-Bustamante's work. Yes, Pavese was right: nothing passes from the world without leaving a trace (and this is where the work of this artist becomes strangely ‘figurative'). Of course, the finest art must ensure that the trace persists. In Time. In Nature.

Luis Francisco Pérez

JOSÉ RAMÓN AIS / Parque Natural / 24.01 - 14.03 / 2015


This photographic series reflects on the concept of the landscape as a cultural asset and product. A natural park can be defined as an institutionalised space in the natural environment intended to be preserved in its supposedly original state, unaltered by human hands. A kind of Eden that matchesthe cultural concerns of a particular time, a space for scientific research, a place that will not only safeguard but can also meet the needs of constructing an identity, that can serve as a setting for myths and, from a more practical perspective, as a consumer asset for the eyes, a tourist destination.


Every society develops and evolves to some extent as a result of its exploitation of natural resources, though this exploitation has become more aggressive and widespread since the Industrial Revolution. Modernity, with its tireless machinery, has modified not just the land but also the ways we perceive and interpret places. A mountain, a river or a tree can be a means to reach the sublime, just as it might be raw material for manufacturing, a duality and redefinition wherein perhaps the function of the concept of the landscape may lie.


"I am interested in the possible parallel between the concept of the monument and the landscape. A monument constructs a memory, it extols values, it is the writing of history from a particular point of view. It is an image that is the product of ideology. The landscape can become a monument when it is turned into a repository of moral values, into a representation of a paradise lost related to origins.


This imaginary is always the projection of a particular culture, and in western culture it has been defined by the history of painting, literature, the performing arts, film, etc. In short, an idealised representation of its condition as habitat that must be unspoiled and wild, beautiful and sublime. Humans do not inhabit it, they only look at it, travel through it and interpret it."


GROUP SHOW / 15.11 - 17.01 / 2014


   This group exhibition is the result of our wish to bring together a group of artists whose work is both interesting and disturbing at the same time. The sellection has been easy - we just have let ourselves be seduced by the pieces, and the mistery they hold. We find very interesting making these artworks talk with each other and see what happens.


   Tiago Carneiro da Cunha, Michael Horsky, Stefan Rinck, Lamarche & Ovize and Pablo Morata belong to the same generation and, althought they come from different cultures, they all share a similar way of seeing, understanding and dealing with the artistic work. A common place from where they confront certain obsessions and give birth to these creatures who live in the wrinkles of their brains. This is the engine that is leading them to express themselves from the depths of a subconscious that we feel close even thought is not ours.


   The sense of humor is a powerful tool when dealing with these "monsters"; it creates fantasy and, as viewers, it helps us in a world where the rational idea is king. All these artworks come directly from that slow and hot fermented primal mass -not refined, not coloured, not adulterated at all.


   These works maintain alive the wild side that can awake confronted sensations in the viewer; that´s why it is important not to forget that Fantasy and Reason allied are the mother of all arts and origin of wonders.

FELIPE TALO / La leyenda negra / 11.09 - 08.11 / 2014


Para la exposición La Leyenda Negra, Talo se inspira en las crónicas escritas por los conquistadores y en concreto, en el relato de Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca.  Un relato para justificar un fracaso.   Dos pinturas de gran formato en las que se deja ver el soporte como metáfora espiritual,  flanquean una estructura epicoescultórica  situada en el centro del la sala.   Completan la exposición una serie de dibujos a lápiz con apariencia de grabado goyesco. Diferentes velocidades del tiempo y la materia se dan lugar de nuevo a través del trabajo de Felipe Talo.

JORGE DIEZMA / Una oveja recorre Europa / 01.02 - 29.03 / 2014


En la exposición "Una oveja recorre Europa", la concepción de la pintura gira alrededor de la tensión que se genera entre la materia y la representación. En paralelo a su trabajo más figurativo, como los bodegones de tintes barrocos de grandes dimensiones, ha ido desarrollando una línea abstracta que pone el acento en la materialidad de lo pictórico.

IÑAKI IMAZ (II) / Masa candida / 17.10 - 09.11 / 2013


En Masa Cándida, la exposición que cierra el ciclo de Iñaki Imaz, el tema principal es la figura; límite pictórico que funciona como analogía de la frontera entre lo individual, lo colectivo y figura, también pictórica, como materialización de una vivencia personal de la no separación.

IÑAKI IMAZ (I) / 5 lobitos / 15.08 - 12.09 / 2013


En "5 Lobitos", la primera de las dos exposiciones consecutivas de Iñaki Imaz, el artista ha elegido algunas obras que tendrían que ver, con diferentes ensayos de puesta en cuestión de la separación entre lo mirado y quien mira; de ahí las tentativas de comprobación de la efectividad de ciertos límites de la pintura y el deseo de intensificar su capacidad de afección corporal.