Have you ever thought about what makes artistic writing emerge? And, beyond that, what causes the perseverance of the artist? The psychoanalyst Montserrat Rodríguez Garzo lets us know that in artistic productions there is no a priori order. There is no prior proposition with which to make artistically. The themes, by way of a wrapping, come later. And she asks us: what is there, if there is no prior order? Abyss? Chaos? "A painting that does not understand its own abyss (...) is not a painting", says Deleuze.
With the echo of these questions, we welcome Otrografías. A project on art and psychoanalysis by Rodríguez Garzo, who exposes in three theoretical seminars the emergence of artistic production and its value of use, as well as the multiplicity in which the writing of the Other (as score, formula, film, painting, architecture, story...) becomes present.
On Thursdays 3, 10 and 17 June (from 19 to 21h), in person at the gallery or online from wherever you want, live or deferred, you will be able to see modes of otherness that get mixed up with the body and that respond to the subjectivity of the time in which they are produced. As a backdrop, an exhibition with works by four artists (Estanis Ferrer, Dolors Salillas, Rosalina Sicart, Margarita Veiga) and a mathematician (Gustavo Collado), who work regularly with the psychoanalyst and with what emerges beyond meaning, to transmit what can only be said artistically.
The three sessions will be held in Spanish and will take place as follows:
Thursday 3 June Appropriation becomes present and gives rise to writing.
With Graw, Jakobson, Lacan and Derrida.
Thursday 10 June Artistic writing: chaos and emergencies of the Other, on stage.
With Derrida, Deleuze and Lacan.
Thursday 17 June The wound and the wounded. Artistic work, a treatment of pain?
With Klein, Lacan, Winnicot and Wittgenstein.
👉 And below, as always, a few other things on the back burner to give free rein to my pen.
👉 Last week I received a letter from Louis Porter. The London-based artist addressed me personally and very politely, explaining about his work with books and archival material and how he had been wanting to get in touch with me for some time. He told me how much he enjoyed the focus and style of this room, across the ocean of the internet, in particular the interest in publishing and artist books as a form of practice. Also the concept that the gallery can serve as a node for the production of work and not just a display. He said that one of the benefits of making books is that he can send them in the mail as a form of introduction, and so he enclosed his latest publication, Why I write, a reframing (literally) of George Orwell's essay on the impetus of the creative act, and Optics, a visual poem about the semiotics of early photography, which he published in 2015 and we included in the exhibition Mise en images, traversed by confinement.
He also explained how during that first lockdown he had been busy working on new publications and now has four artist's editions coming out of the oven, as well as other collaborative projects that will be published soon. He made me think that it was during the lockdown that I got back to writing and started sending you these love letters. Why I write was originally published in the literary magazine Gangrel in the summer of 1946. Four years later, on the 21st of January 1950, its author—the celebrated novelist and essayist George Orwell—died of tuberculosis at University College Hospital, London. According to UK copyright law, the entire catalogue of works published during Orwell’s lifetime entered into the public domain at the beginning of 2021, after the 71st anniversary of his death. On the 22nd of January Louis contacted Pooja Ahuja—a translator and transcriber based in New Delhi—and commissioned her to write out Orwell’s essay by hand and send the pages to him in London. This delicate gesture is today a precious publication that we will present from 17 to 20 June during artist's book fair Arts Libris, that celebrates next edition in a very special place intimately linked to the book memory of Barcelona: the Sant Antoni Market. It's just next to the gallery, in our neighbourhood, and if you come visit, I'll also tell you why I write.
🏞️ Today I want to say goodbye writing about the desire to return into the earth, naturally and literally. And I am infinitely grateful to the artists Mar Serinyà and Marta Vergonyós for the video-performance arrelant/errant, that captures so beautifully this naked miracle that I glimpse in going back to direct contact with the landscape.
I also take my leave sharing a growing interest in active listening, which was non-existent when my noisy neighbours moved in a year ago, but has increased lately. At first, I hated them, I confess. But today I am at peace with that, with having hated and with leting go. More so, I suppose, since I heard them complaining about how noisy they consider their new neighbour to be. The Persian poet Hafiz helped me break that deadly loop with his profound words.
Listen to Others?
As if everyone were my Master
Speaking to me
1. Artwork by Rosalina Sicart (2020)
2. Why I Write, George Orwell. Louis Porter (2021).
3. arrelant/errant. Mar Serinyà and Marta Vergonyós. Land Art Festival, Art i Gavarres (2019)