when someone has to write about what he paints,
he's tempted to convert his excuses on "big truths"
but the manifests have long gone down in history
and I don't think that starting to talk about what means
being european or american,
about the derivatives of pop,
about the informalism,
about what young german people paint
or about what it's cool in the street will work
but
in some way
we have to justify our mess
let's see...
I paint without thinking...
too much...
then I stop
i look at it,
i get distracted,
and after a few crisis i go on...,
I believe in mistakes
in the end that's why we're here,
I force my inconsciente
and I find myself changing,
I mix my traumas with tv programs
with music...
with pets...
while I paint I forget what I paint and I surprise myself thinking about that girl,
about that son of a bitch at work,
when are we going to play basketball again?
then i get hungry
(i'll go get a kebab)
I roll a cigarette
I look at the painting
and i ask myself
what the hell am I going to say about what I paint?
sincerely (...)
del 15 de agosto al 13 de septiembre
"Mercat d'Art"
Galeria Paspartú
c/verdi 25