Fernando Gaspar | Bill Lowe Gallery
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Moving Places | solo exhibition catalog
Transcript of Fernando Gaspar | Bill Lowe Gallery
1
El Afecto, el Tiempo y el Río series
From the morning and from the rock comes out the soft mist. It flows inward and brings the river to lightness and to doubt.
Inner landscape, changing. Secret trail through granite and moss; affluent of the days, flow and bed of the lives.
The hand stroke the slopes as long before did the eyes. Fingered, feeling lost, the valleys and the cliffs: flight of birds in transit, plane and sharp.
Took far away from the heat of the nests, the mothersʼ song.Telluric force that from the wings hits the wind, molding the shallows, where the sky
begins.Mineral drain.
Dark gesture, dense mass, crafted and echoing. Matricial volume, beginning of all things.
Fernando Gaspar
#16, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 60x60 in
#17, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 60x60 in
#18, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 72x72 in
#19, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 78x78 in
#20, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 78x78 in
REMIND 25 series
(The body in art or the body as art)
The body as a singular territory affirming the individual in society, or collective aim. Cipher, letter of a time. The human body as subject, medium or language. Time
crosses the most ancestral territory of communication.
Reflexive place, syllable of a speech or the body as vindication of the ego. Source of conscious singularity, natural error, subversion or supraversion. Something new.
Statement of ownership and dominion by mutilation with the devine past. By mutilation, only! By the marking of other signs! Tattoo simultaneously separating
and suturing, redemption of the unique, the singularity of the restricted, engraving of birth, mark of passage, semiotic exercise.
Fight that cames from primitive fluids, force that runs thought the bone and hurls itself against the skin. first stage of restlessness. After the outside, tactile and visible, the smell and the matricial marker liquids, from appeal and revulsion.
Gestures, impulses, telluric screams or the silence that leaves the eyes and rises in the arch by the distance to the other. Containment or breakdown. Cuddle or
tribal recoil.
The body, simultaneously sacred and profane altar. Fallible and finite. Mundane and sincere counterpoint of the approach that, by art, until now, ransomed it for the
domain of the sacred, as manifestation of the revealed transcendental, fantastic representation, allegorical and illusory.
Fernando Gaspar
She #1, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
She #2, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
She #3, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
She #4, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
She #5, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
She #6, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
She #7, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
He #1, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
He #2, 2011, pigmented plaster composite sculpture, 12x7x10 in
Zwarte Koninginnen / Black Queens series
The hand touched the veil most transparent, draped upon the sculpted chair. It was that time at the onset of the night when noise seemed never-ending. Upon the
sculpted chair, the place of the female body with no owner, stiffened. Almost nothing, powerful, complete and sterile like a church occupied without haste,
in silence. Breathed out and thick.
The immobility of surrounding stones, the glittering of spears, the disquiet of power, the power of fear, gaze and gesture freeze, turning into ashes the days of flowers,
the great morning of life.
She keeps her promise and the quietness of the people, the rise of the nations. She keeps the indigo of new seas and of their dark-spleen interiors, their relic
body, reliquary. The body where life does not regret death and the kiss tastes of spices and warm blood. The body that slides and almost stops, trembles and
beats, almost nothing, that whispers kindness without rudderless pleasure. The body where hurry breaks within its chiseled contours.
Exile brocade, black journey beyond the new skin, transparent and pure. Fate, freshly furrowed in a field of death and gunpowder. The insistent quarrels of men
and heritages and … her. She, divine destiny, chosen from the wisdom of the earth, the first and last owning the condition of the Unique.
Fernando Gaspar
ZK 1, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on paper, 30x22 in
ZK 2, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on paper, 30x22 in
ZK 3, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on paper, 30x22 in
ZK 4, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on paper, 30x22 in
ZK 5, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on paper, 30x22 in
ZK 6, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on paper, 30x22 in
ZK 7, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 47x47 in
ZK 8, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 47x47 in
ZK 9, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 47x47 in
ZK 10, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 47x47 in
ZK 11, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 60x60 in
ZK 12, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 60x60 in
ZK 13, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 72x72 in
ZK 14, 2013, collage, charcoal and acrylic on linen canvas, 50x50 in
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