The truth, MY truth. One way to say it.
The truth, MY truth. One way to say it. - PABLO GÓMEZ
The exhibition is the materialized opportunity of how I have lived these two exciting years, with a double facet: artist and gallery owner, gallery owner and artist, in Simancas.
All the emotions lived and felt from the passion, the love of art and the dedication to this project, I cannot explain them better than with my works.
The exhibition is the diary of a path, of a path in that new duality for me and that I have had to learn and continue to do, always an apprentice.
It is through the observation of an environment, Simancas, where the attraction to the place is produced and the challenge of changing it, of “building” an abstract contemporary art gallery in a rural setting.
Any change entails a process of learning and mutual adaptation of the environment towards the gallery and the gallery towards the environment. The change that it has to provoke is that the space attracts us, remains indifferent to us or repulses us.
For the change to occur, the observer must be made aware through the works and want to make the works part of his life.
Reality is often a mirage of what we want, transforming a piece of metal into a warm and embraced feeling.
We rely on the books that gather knowledge, make our thoughts, make us like them and use them in our daily path.
Nothing is absolute, the fragility, the ephemerality of the moment is always present, like a gust of wind that moves us like a reed and makes us tremble.
A path full of appearances, full of realities, deceptions, falsehoods, false promises, unfulfilled promises, silences, waiting, hopes and then, later.
A weathervane the wind you and me looking for the north, the south, the east and the west, each one’s. Image of a changing reality, of uncontrollable forces and on many occasions incomprehensible, that force that comes from within to continue, to continue telling us the story of the milkmaid and go on and on and on and on.
It doesn’t matter if the door is closed, it doesn’t matter if they look at us from the peephole and don’t open it. Indifference does not matter, lies do not matter, contempt does not matter, not even interested use, only the truth matters, MY truth and the way of saying it with art, with MY art.
Moment, Change, Tale of the milkmaid, Road, Books, Train tracks, Mirage. A space that is passionate and remains indifferent, that rejects us, an encounter, the fragility of the moment (chair, table, deconstructed)
The philosophies of Don Quixote, the weather vane, the wind, you and me and the open and closed Now.
Final point, for the truth to exist, even if it is MY truth, the lie must exist.
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