TOMÁS SANTIAGO
Dressage
A profound and dark message.
Two visions… …ancient visions… …unaware of their existence. They belong to two worlds that communicate with one language, forged in the 12th century, that fade to invisible on their long journey through time. They are nomads.           (+)
EVRU
Original Republic
Vlo uts setusi, dra glud mesad.
Dresivo vli et dovist,glo vixoda urat dre; Et sat tenkure sot.
Ut suvile met orindra, vlud neluva.
Serod misdre enist, vost donures glod. Ot vosid dru serod, napilo vlo; savrunda uts.
Vlesido glod merod at sulega vlid.

Odiram Evrugo!           (+)
JOSÉ Y PABLO MILICUA
Genealogy of art
He is now ninety and in very poor health, although that did not stop him last year from commissioning an important exhibit of 18th century art at the Godia Foundation and presenting another exhibit on the young Rivera at the Prado.          (+)
FEDERICO CORREA
The man who plays with the horizon
A very early morning at the end of the eighties I brought Jorge Oteiza to the Olympic esplanade. As he entered, he let out a sharp remark at the "Telefónica relay tower" only to then study the area with his gaze and declare;           (+)
CARME SOLÉ VENDRELL
Eyes of light
They appear behind the windows, in the walls of her studio, they come from the heart of the artist to the canvas on a fast, furious and tender journey, like the thrust of a sword.           (+)
ÀLEX CORRETJA
The knight of tennis
The slack is tautened from the pulleys, the machines provide resistance to the legs and speed struggles to push in behind the racquet. It is that place in which the heart approaches 180 beats a minute...          (+)
TOMÁS SANTIAGO
Dressage
A profound and dark message.
1. Two visions... ...ancient visions... ...unaware of their existence. They belong to two worlds that communicate with one language, forged in the 12th century, that fade to invisible on their long journey through time. They are nomads. I am a spectator, and from my world I need to understand. They do not; they converse without needing to know how or why. Vittorio could be one of them. And that's why through his vision my conscious stops seeking explanations and enters a new realm of "free thought" where what has been learned before no longer serves as a bond to master what is new. And thus, his works are displayed; 2. a leg, 3. two legs, 4. three, 5. the centaur, 6. the irrational delivery, 7. the delivery from sweetness. 8. and the profiles in black... ...pride?... ...9. to advance?... ...10. and in the end to know... ...to know?...
To know that everything begins anew.

Carlos Cugat
Multidisciplinary architect
25 – VI - 2011
EVRU
Original Republic
Vlo uts setusi, dra glud mesad.
Dresivo vli et dovist,glo vixoda urat dre;
Et sat tenkure sot.
Ut suvile met orindra, vlud neluva.
Serod misdre enist, vost donures glod.
Ot vosid dru serod, napilo vlo; savrunda uts.
Vlesido glod merod at sulega vlid.

Odiram Evrugo!
JOSÉ Y PABLO MILICUA
Genealogy of art

My grandfather Florencio Milicua was an antique dealer. My uncle José Milicua is an art scholar and historian: a follower of the Italian Longhi, he is a lecturer of the history of art on the Faculty of Fine Arts in Barcelona and at Pompeu Fabra University, and a member of the board of the Prado museum. He is now ninety and in very poor health, although that did not stop him last year from commissioning an important exhibit of 18th century art at the Godia Foundation and presenting another exhibit on the young Rivera at the Prado.

These origins were decisive for me as a plastic artist. I grew up surrounded by the art of the past centuries in the form of paintings, objects and books. I think I felt and I feel the weight of the past in a way that is much more present than other artist friends. Sometimes I envy that ability to create from a certain vacuum, from a purely present moment, from an open and wild eye that is not my own. This weight of history, the heavy past, gives rise to a certain skepticism about modernity, which leads to a certain anachronistic sensitivity; but that atemporal imagination also rebels, Oedipus-like, against the dispossessed history of the mythical fascination with that which is new; looking, nevertheless, to newness for self-affirmation. And that has led me to my work of reinterpreting the Flemish renaissance landscape – Bosco, Brueghel, Patinir – and the grotesque mannerist through collage, it has brought me to my project of the ephemeral museums – the first done in Bilbao this spring – as a mishmash of the past and the future in an open discourse.

I would like to believe that through family communication over three generations, starting with my grandfather the antique dealer, through my uncle the art historian and then through my work in assembly and collage, the flow of time has passed from the roots of the old to the fresh shoots of the new.

Pablo Milicua. Sept. 2011

FEDERICO CORREA
The man who plays with the horizon

A very early morning at the end of the eighties I brought Jorge Oteiza to the Olympic esplanade. As he entered, he let out a sharp remark at the "Telefónica relay tower" only to then study the area with his gaze and declare:

"Here a genius has played with the horizon."

Awhile ago, I told Federico the comment that Oteiza had made to me about his work.

His face reflected deep emotion and after a moment he said,

"When I designed it, I went to Paris to study the works of André Le Nôtre. Oteiza is the first person to notice his influence."

If to this anecdote we add the fact that Federico is a follower of Coderch and that Coderch had a relationship of friendship, respect and admiration with Oteiza, so much so that they shared a room at the IV Biennial de Sao Paulo in 1957, we arrive at the...

First Reflection: In the art world, the relationship between the disciple and the master is a fundamental part of the student's development. Written information is no substitute for direct contact.

Second Reflection: At the photo session in his studio, his worktable reminded me of a craftsman who had reached the status of artist through the rigorousness of his work.

In the end it reminded me that "rigour" is the backbone of the work method that the master Correa engraved on the hearts of several generations of architects. In the name of all of them,

thank you Federico.

Carles Cugat
Architect
CARME SOLÉ VENDRELL
Eyes of light

They appear behind the windows, in the walls of her studio, they come from the heart of the artist to the canvas on a fast, furious and tender journey, like the thrust of a sword. There they undergo transformation, moaning and singing, strolling and smiling, being born and dying until she's done with them.

They are provoking, solitary, mad, hungry for the gaze that will decipher them. They are loaded with the winters, summers, wars, famines and freezes of different times and places. Look how the children play on the seaside, in the golden afternoons of summer and they all come from so far, although they spring from the strokes of her hands. In groups, in packs like blue wolves they drag the weight of time in their eyes. Silent, they speak with their gaze, they sing with closed lips.

I have seen them many times and many have asked me, "why don't you take me with you?" That's when I am struck frozen, cold before their eyes that breathe like a closed book. I leave full of skies and stars, other languages, other music, other poems. Carme continues travelling, in silence, as her works travel.

Jaume Escala
Musician and writer
ÀLEX CORRETJA
The knight of tennis

The slack is tautened from the pulleys, the machines provide resistance to the legs and speed struggles to push in behind the racquet. It is that place in which the heart approaches 180 beats a minute, in which the screams awaken the muscle and the battle instinct, a familiar suffering invades the body and pain becomes productive and tastes sweet. When the engine is pushed into gear, the environment is hostile and the body chemistry is almost inhospitable, Alex feels whole. It is an anaerobic place in which the struggle is against the best of oneself (the best time, the best weight, the best curve) and from that fight one can only emerge victorious, because victory is a muscle with memory, a muscle which instinctively pursues conquest once its honey has been tasted, and one which is achieved through repetition and perseverance.

Returning to this chaos – that which nobody sees and which is only recognised by those who have lived in its skin – means returning to the essence, to the origin. These are the initial values, the effort that shows that trophies are earned, and that every letter engraved on the plaque represents an accomplishment, a joy, an uncertainty...

Alex yields to it again: "It asks for my head, my body and my soul," because his head, his body and his soul have been drinking it and sweating it since he was 10 years old. It is oxygen and nourishment. And at the climax of every training session, his entire being returns home.

Martina Klein