[ Images: Frederic Amat // Text: Ramón Andrés // Design: Estela Robles // Coordination: Lea Tyrallová // Translation: Valerie Miles & Aurelio Major // Printing: Brizzolis // Edition: Federico García Lorca Center Consortium ]
[...] There was a time when men, who longed to be seen by the gods, painted themselves. They advanced, they retreated, they jumped, they unraveled their lives. And so they crossed the fields, the marshes, the lavender, the ravines: they wanted the gaze from above. They implored. It was only given to them to be a stain, to be a gesture that spills out when pointing to the sky. That's why they write the roads. They work, they dig their form, they only live at their extreme, in the being transfigured in line, in their pigmented edge, in the memory that gives them back event, origin. The origin is a trickle; the end is a drip. The last one is always the same face. [...]. Ramón Andrés, from the text for the catalogue.
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Coordinado por José Vallejo Prieto y con diseño de Juan Vida