Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Sutura, 2019. Oil on linen. 46 x 40 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Sutura II (Blanco Roto), 2019. Oil on linen. 42 x 34 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Collapse, broken glass IV, 2018. Oil on linen. 33 x 24,5 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Collapse, broken glass II, 2018. Oil on linen. 33 x 24, 5 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Beam VI, 2018. Oil on linen. 33 x 24 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Nook, 2018. Oil on linen. 27 x 35 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Reflejo, 2018. Oil on linen. 27,2 x 22,7 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Hoja leve, 2019. Oil on linen, 22,8 x 27,2 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

Viga triste, 2018. Oil on linen. 24 x 33 cm

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Asir" Museo Patio Herreriano (Valladolid) 2019

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Recompensa" Ana Mas Projects (Barcelona) Art Nou 2017 Photo: @RobertoRuiz

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Recompensa"Ana Mas Projects (Barcelona) Art Nou 2017 Photo: @RobertoRuiz
Foto: @RobertoRuiz

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Recompensa"Ana Mas Projects (Barcelona) Art Nou 2017. Photo: @RobertoRuiz

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Recompensa" Ana Mas Projects (Barcelona) Art Nou 2017
Foto: @RobertoRuiz

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Recompensa" Ana Mas Projects (Barcelona) Art Nou 2017
Photo: @RobertoRuiz

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

"Recompensa" in Ana Mas Projects (Barcelona) Art Nou 2017
Photo: @RobertoRuiz

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

View of “PRODUCE, PRODUCE, PRODUCE(D) Loop Barcelona. 2018

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

View of “Flirteo”, videoscreening and performance at Barcelona Botanic Garden, Barcelona. 2018

Mercedes Mangrané | anamasprojects.com

View of “Flirteo”, videoscreening and performance at Barcelona Botanic Garden (Barcelona) 2018

CV

MERCEDES MAGRANÉ

EXHIBITIONS (SELECTION)

2020

Parche. Ana Mas Projects, Hospitalet de Llobregat, Barcelona

Drainage systems. Georg Kargl Box, Vienna, Austria

2019

Asir. Museo Patio Herreriano. Valladolid.

Premio Internacional de Arte Fundación Maria José Jove, group show. A Coruña.

8è Premi de Pintura Torres-García group show, Fundació Iluro, Mataró.

April season. Side Gallery, Casavells, Girona.

Durante la construcción de la muralla china. Luis Adelantado, Valencia.

Susceptible. Cultural Rizoma, Celrà, Girona.

2018

PRODUCE, PRODUCE, PRODUCE(D) Loop Barcelona. 2018

SWAB Art Fair. Ana Mas Projects

FLIRTEO, Nit dels Museus, Jardí Botànic, Coproduced by Hangar.org,

Barcelona

2017

Recompensa, Ana Mas Projects

2016

Caminar sobre el Gel. Bòlit Centre d’Art Contemporani, Girona.

Truco a la porta de la pedra. La Puntual, St Cugat.

Delicartessen. Galeria Esther Montoriol, Barcelona.

3a Edición de la Bianyal. Vall de Bianya, Girona.

2015

Aparteu les Cadires. Can Felipa, Poblenou, Barcelona.

Los lugares amenos. Espacio AB9, Murcia.

9a Biennal d’Art Leandre Cristòfol. Centre d’Art La Panera, Lleida.

2014

El descens. Capella de St Roc, Valls, Tarragona.

El cordón de plata. Cyan Gallery. Barcelona.

Artificialia. Cyan Gallery. Barcelona.

2013

Wavy Banners. Culture festival THE WAVE.Norre Snede, Humlum, Vorgod- Barde, Sdr.Nissum, Denmark.

Les murs du temps. Cyan Gallery group show, Barcelona.

Materia de Ensayo. DEMOLDEN Video Project Space, Santander.

El espacio cósmico estaba ahí, en dos o tres centímetros. Galería Bacelos, Vigo.

2012

Ouverture. Beca Sala d’Art Jove. Barcelona.

…And you will know us by the trail of bread. Karat, Cologne.

Solovídeo. Espacio Trapezio, Madrid.

SOLO SHOWS (SELECTION)

2020

Attempt at Rapprochement, Georg Kargl Vienna

ARCOlisboa 2020 Online Edition, Georg Kargl Fine Arts

Notcancelled.art, Georg Kargl Fine Arts, Vienna

2019

Notes on landscape, Kunstraum Lakeside. Klagenfurt,Vienna

Premio Internacional de Arte, Fundación Ma José Jove, A Coruña

Durante la construcción de la muralla china. Galería Luis Adelantado, Valencia.

2018

Untitled Miami Art, Ana Mas Projects, Florida (USA).

Produce, produced, produced. LOOP Festival, Real Cercle Artístic, Bcn.

2017

“Caminar sobre hielo”. Bòlit Centre d’Art Contemporani, Girona; Ars Santa Mónica, MAC Mataró, Bcn.

2016

Llamo a la puerta de la piedra. La Puntual, St Cugat.

Delicartessen. Galeria Esther Montoriol, Barcelona.

2015

Los lugares amenos. Espacio AB9, Murcia.

Aparteu les Cadires Can Felipa Arts Visuals, a cura de Joana Hurtado, Poblenou, Bcn.

2014

9a Biennal d’Art Leandre Cristòfol. Centre d’Art La Panera, Lleida.

2013

Les murs du temps. Cyan Gallery, Barcelona.

El espacio cósmico estaba ahí,(…). Galeria Bacelos,Vigo.

2012

Ouverture, Beca Sala d’Art Jove. Barcelona.

RESEARCH ACTIVITY

2015

Cooperating in research “Aproximación al ecosistema de la enseñanza artística en Catalunya” with Sinapsis, charge of CONCA, Barcelona.

Participation in the project dodgeball,  Pedagogías de fricción, Fundació Miró, Barcelona.

2014

Cultural dynamism through the creation of the program “Sacudir la mirada” in UNZIP Dispositiu de suport i mediació de les arts visuals al Prat de Llobregat. Ajuntament del Prat de Llobregat. In colaboration with: PictoBcn y Associación de Amigos del Arte del Prat.

Conference in Facultad de Bellas Artes de Barcelona in the frame “Encuentros con creadors”(UB) Barcelona.

2013

Presentation of filmic projects in the Festival Internacional de Cinema Documental Punto de Vista, Pamplona.

GRANTS AND AWARDS

2019

Kunstraum Lakeside, Viena

2018

Beca Creación y Museos para la Noche de Los Museos en el Jardín Botánico de Montjuïc, Instituto de Cultura de Barcelona, coproducción de Hangar, Barcelona.

2017

Beca UNZIP Arts Visuals, proyecto arte-educación con Miriam C.Cabeza, El Prat de Llobregat.

2015

Beca de producción en Can Felipa, Poblenou, Barcelona.

2012

Beca Sala d’Art Jove, Barcelona.

COLLECTIONS

Centre d’Art La Panera, Lleida.

Colección Banc Sabadell.

Fundación Vilacasas

Colección Juan Manuel Elizalde

Texts

  • Mercedes Mangrané
    Text exhibition "Patch" in Ana Mas Projects

    I have an early memory that the story I was told in school about vowels did not go beyond phonetics and narrative tricks to learn how to memorize writing them, especially when practicing joined-up handwriting. In April I signed up for an Arabic course, and I learned that before the vowel sound of the points (Fatha, Damma, Kasra and Sukoon) and their original meanings, everything has a choreographic correlation to the mouth’s articulation (the movement) that makes sense:

    Fatha means “an opening”. (a); Damma means “a closing”. (u); Kasra means “a rupture”. (i); Sukoon means “static”. (the vowel that comes out is silenced or reduced by pronouncing consonants).

    At the slow pace of learning one language, I’m also studying another slow language: in painting there are also openings, closings, ruptures, statisms. But how can they be explained?

    .

    It is inevitable to turn to Kandinsky and his work on Point and Line to Plane, when he writes about the exteriority of the point, but also about how the exterior sign becomes a habit and obscures the interior sound of the symbol. The interior remains “walled off” within the exterior. And he adds; that the point belongs to the narrow circle of everyday phenomena with its traditional note: mute.

    .

    On the way to the airport, at Vienna train station, I was looking at the train on the opposite platform. Then I heard the do-re-mi-fa scale… matched to the millimeter with the train’s starting speed, in a kind of magical realism. Before such an illusion, and before the magic faded away, I could understand that the random effect of chance was previously edited and amplified by some speakers. An amazement similar to what happens in the cinema.

    In the film Lazzaro Felice, there is a moment that is both different and similar: the sound of a church organ escapes from the place, joining Lazaro and his group at the moment they are expelled as visitors. Then the nuns exclaim: “The music! Close the doors! Even knowing the ruse and the impossibility of the situation, the magic effect persists. I wonder what kind of sounds can be associated with the paintings, apparently mute: yawning, wailing, rhyming desires, exorcisms in harmony. And if somehow, they silently cling to those who feel them.

    .

    Despite my departure point is specific, I do not pursue specifics.

    In the details of humidity, fragments of walls that I find in front of the studio, brick doors and walled-up windows, there are signs of abandonment, but also of resistance. There is something pointless in wanting to keep what is destabilized firm.

    I look at elements of everyday life that find their balance in their contradiction: the weight and lightness of the buoys, the water breakers as a romantic element of the landscape despite their violence, minimal compositions and veiled watercolors that tempt one to think that there is nothing there.

    The subject is concentrated in some works and disappears in others.

    That which is boring to the eyes until it disappears, until it is rediscovered.

    .

    After the curfews the images are suddenly redefined. This is the body of work that had been taking shape for some time before and that corresponds to a series of particular emotional notes that, like ideas, are not fixed. Constellations fed by everyday situations that refer to one’s own body through what is outside it. I’d like to think that the works escape the aim of lockdown itself. The constructive analogies with painting (overlays, omissions, excesses of material, affirmations… so close to the system of linguistic signs) help me face the exploration of a shaking surface.

    .

    A doorway is described in a hegemonic way as the immediate interior of the main door of a house, building or construction. It is a paradoxical space, because it evokes a certain shelter being on the outside, facing outside but covered.

    A doorway is also an access point, an entrance or an exit to a place we cannot see beforehand. If we play with the changing scale and imagine other contexts far from medieval Christian iconography (the birth), let’s put the case forward: the hole of an anthill, the deep breaches in the bark of an olive tree, the broken skin of a persimmon, the opening to the mailbox… a doorway gives entity to an mid-way space, making it enigmatic, and feeding a mystery that depends on each person’s feeling. Something that divides, partitions, a split that evokes or gives way to the unknown.

    .

    I believe that everyone carries their own domestic space in themselves, as part of their body.

    Like a snail’s shell whose limitless spiral begins to grow, connecting to and melting within its surroundings. And in the search for signs that are familiar, world-layers are added to create the feeling.

    Paintings are born out of uncertainty and actively avoid certainty, but when these characteristics match the contextual feeling it is sometimes difficult to maintain.

    .

    The cover, the faccia, the facade, the face. What is shown. What also masks, what is behind. Small chinks through which a faint light appears, a color that ignites.

    Tympanum, lintels, pillars… are formed abruptly; if you want them, they are there.

    Doorways where the only sentries are we, the spectators.

    .

    Hanging on the wall of my room, there is photocopy that I printed from a catalog about music from antiquity, a show in which I worked as a guide and which shows a pair of votive ears from the New Empire egyptian period I could see repeatedly. They are also doorways. I have them there to remind me of the importance of listening.

    In painting, instead of sound entering, it is the gaze that enters.

    .

    The photographs are shown as counterpoints, beginnings of image-ideas, of encounters, which refer to forms of memory, which connect with a symbolism that goes back to the Paleolithic matrix. Shapes: undulating, brittle, trembling. A puddle or a reflection on a table, projections of growing or decreasing light, moulds generated fortuitously at the insistence of the sweeping rain that displaces the particles of earth from a leaf turning it into its material shadow. Lines whose drawing is done by hand.

    .

    The Book of the Dead from ancient Egypt, also translated as “Book of Coming Forth by Day” or “Book of Emerging Forth into Light”, first starts from a tradition of funerary texts on the walls of tombs and sarcophagi (written on objects), and later on papyrus that were introduced in the sarcophagus with the will to help pass through “the doorway” of the beyond. In those image-spells, there was a belief in the magic of the image to influence the gods themselves, but only a small minority could afford such spells and rituals. One of the tests to be performed by the deceased was to pass through gates, caves and mountains guarded by monstrous creatures. In the times of the New Kingdom, this privilege ceased to be exclusively royal and any Egyptian not necessarily related to royalty who could afford a Book of the Dead had the necessary spells and instructions to cross “the doorway”.

    .

    In this desire to be safe and not in the open, this poem by Brecht resonates with me.

    “Four invitations from different places and different times to a man”:

    1

    This is your home.

    You can leave your things here.

    Rearrange the furniture to your liking.

    Tell me what you need.

    This is your key. Stay.

    2

    This is the room we can all use.

    And a room of your own with a bed.

    You can give us a hand in the fields.

    You’ll have your own plate.

    Stay with us.

    3

    You can sleep here.

    The bed is still fresh,

    only one man occupied it.

    If you’re picky,

    rinse the tin spoon in that bucket

    and it will be as good as new.

    You’re welcome to stay with us.

    4

    This is the bedroom.

    Hurry up; if you want, you can stay

    overnight, but it costs extra.

    I won’t bother you

    and, besides, I’m not sick.

    You are as safe here as anywhere else.

    You can stay here if you like.

    (1926, from The Reader for City Dwellers)

    .

    This summer I read a short story called El Mariner de St Pau by Jacint Verdaguer, about a fisherman who flees from his home after the sea has taken the lives of his family and house. He carries his paddle on his back and walks away with the firm purpose of settling in the village where they do not recognize the original function of such an object, convinced that only then can he find peace. After several walks through different villages in Catalonia he comes across a village where, after showing the paddle, they think it is a big spoon to stir the corn in the pot and there he settles down.

    There is something Duchampian and anthropological in the attitude of this story’s protagonist. Aware of how the change of context plays a role when it comes to giving meaning to an object, knowing that everything is mutable (even pain).

    Painting makes me feel something similar. It looks like one whole thing and at the same time it multiplies through the experience of other people’s perspectives. Sometimes I sabotage myself and draw back, to find something different when I meet this familiar thing again.

    .

    It seems that one has to aspire to look at art in the same way as the faces portrayed by Val del Omar in his pedagogical missions, when he “moved closer to the sea” (as opposed to Verdaguer) through the cinematographic device in different towns of the Spanish interior, captured in his photographs of the Republican pedagogical missions (1931-1933); or on the faces of Erice’s children when they saw Frankenstein for the first time in a village cinema (El Espíritu de la Colmena, 1973), and so many other nods to marvel and wonder. These images that immortalize these feelings are testimonies of the first times. This attempt to capture the primary feeling is also shared when animals are filmed, something that strips away the artifice and human structures.

    But I wanted to get dirty, to do something which instead of attracting also repels, that everyone looks at how and when they please; despite the tyranny of social media. Without wonder, with the closeness of recognition.

    I do not intend to surprise but to participate in what exists, showing something that opens up the possibility in the Other to once again discover oneself in the shapes, from a basis of meaning that comes from common experiences.

    .

    A buoy is a weight that reminds its light part, full of air, that there is a ground. An interruption.

    Looking out to the horizon and not finding things that interrupt the field of vision is almost a blind vision. Like the myopic struggle to identify distance (when something comes closer and closer) and what is defined ends up turning hazy and in the end, the only discernible world is a few inches away.

    The paintings, as blind surfaces, have to be read… when read, they become legible.

    When the etymology of read was understood not so much as a gathered interiority but as the exteriority of reading out loud as an aid to the understanding of words before a text that becomes entangled, (like when you learn a language whose letters are completely unknown to you and you read to fix them, generating a unity of sound and form) something like reading to fix the tremor of a text, or according to Cortázar, the ants that parade before your eyes.

    Curtains, windows, walls, papers, are not so different, all of them conceal, sieve or impede the light with their different thicknesses.

CloseExhibitions