Lucía C. Pino, Diego Ballestrasse, Albert Cano, Joseba Eskubi, Joan Rom, Susana Solano, Ricard Terré Ya no baila la luz en mi sonrisa. Capítulo I. Piel

27 Feb - 23 Apr 2021
Ya no baila la luz en mi sonrisa. Capítulo I. Piel

Overview

[…]

Lord

The cage has morphed into a bird

And has taken wing

And my heart is mad

For it howls at death

And smiles from behind the wind

At my delirium

What am I to do with fear

What am I to do with fear

Light dances no longer in my smile

Nor do seasons burn doves in my ideations

My hands have despoiled themselves

And have gone where death

Teaches the dead to live.

 

A. Pizarnik, El despertar (The awakening) [to León Ostrov], 1958. (Fragment, translated by Juan Ribó Chalmeta and Irina Urumova.)

 

Ana Mas Projects is pleased to present Ya no baila la luz en mi sonrisa. Capítulo I. Piel (Light dances no longer in my smile. Chapter I. Skin) , a group exhibition with the participation of Diego Ballestrasse, Albert Cano, Lucía C. Pino, Joseba Eskubi, Joan Rom, Susana Solano and Ricard Terré. This exhibition is meant to be the first of a series that the gallery will present annually and that, like Piel, will respond to the echo of the formal and conceptual interests that resonates in the featured artists’ works.

Ya no baila la luz en mi sonrisa. Capítulo I. Piel  arises from a fortuitous approach to the poetic work of Alejandra Pizarnik (Argentina, 1936–1972), strongly marked by issues such as identity, the construction of subjectivity, childhood or loss. Some of the fundamental references in Pizarnik’s work were the writer Julio Cortázar and the artist Henri Michaux who, recurrently in their writings, gave life to creatures that did not fit into reality or that operated under other logics. Thus, the title of the series retrieves a verse from El despertar (The Awakening) , one of the most famous poems by the Argentine author, to gather a group of artists’ works capable of evoking, fragmentarily, the beat of strange, ambiguous and enigmatic beings.

The skin is a boundary. But also a barrier. The thing through which our body presents itself to the world, to what, physically, is foreign to it.

Leather is also one of the materials that Joan Rom  (Barcelona, 1954) uses to give life to wooden frames, which, under the appearance of distorted figures, subtly refer to different parts of our body.

For his part, the selection of photographs by Ricard Terré  (Sant Boi de Llobregat, 1928), all of them unpublished, being one of the last series on which the author was working, also refers to the corporeal to the extent that the bark of a trunk is skin, the visible part of a tree, a kind of abstract landscape seen through an eye that, like that of Albert Cano  (Vic, 1968) or Diego Ballestrasse  (Argentina, 1974), invites to imagine from the fragment. In the case of Cano, cutting up and deconstructing press clippings and advertisements to create figures, also amorphous and impossible; in the case of Ballestrasse, looking partly at reality to show, in a decontextualized way, the place where his gaze rests, the important aspects of a life. Where the detail becomes pure eloquence.

Objects, textures and volumes, when isolated or decontextualized, acquire new unsuspected qualities and unusual nuances.

It is in this line where the work of Lucía C. Pino  (Valencia, 1977) is inscribed, a body of work in which, through the manipulation of fragmented matter, the artist brings hybrid and polymorphic associations to life. A biomorphic abstraction similar to the one that, from the register of painting, Joseba Eskubi  (Bilbao, 1967) alludes to through the beings that transit through his canvases, more anthropomorphic creatures that belong to a dream world, halfway between the baroque and the surreal.

The works on paper by Susana Solano (Barcelona, 1946), for her part, give form to geometric motifs and soft and serene shapes: abstract compositions referring to incipient states, to organic tissues observed through a microscopic lens. To what lives under that skin we caress with our hand.

The hand that, like Pizarnik’s, “has despoiled itself and has gone where death teaches the dead to live.”