(bis) Oficina de proyectos
Cali, Colombia

Derechos Four paintings leaning on barricades and partly blocking the regular movement inside the gallery space at (bis), these works hint at the theme of the barrier within the painter's studio as a means of protecting the slow development of the practice, but also perhaps inevitably they refer to current affairs accross the world.

From the text 'Intemperie' by Juan Cárdenas: “Intemperie (Outdoors) Sometimes I would like to be able to go beyond, to see what´s on the other side. But the barricade, far from being a flat barrier, is in reality a complex chamber. Of course it is also a surface, a wall in front of your eyes, as an unsurmountable obstacle that cannot even be circumvented. However its surface has a particularity, it can be penetrated. We live inside it. If a group exists, if there is a “we”, it is because of the barricade´s shape. Outside we would be disaggregated, each one to his own, unable to conform a common identity, but the barricade contains us, and between it and us there is a meaningful exchange. I don´t know when this kind of life started. I think I have been here forever, serving and fulfilling my duties.

I am satisfied, being able to be here, on the right side. I cannot complain. I am doing alright. Every family has been assigned a section of the barricade, which includes a servant. The family I serve is composed of a father, a mother, two children and a grandfather. Likewise, the barricade in the public realm fulfils an ornamental duty. It embellishes the surroundings, gives it character. Sometimes when I am back from fetching provisions, loaded with supermarket bags, I am surprised to rediscover how beautiful everything is: the agglomeration of matter, the masses of colour vibrating in the plaza, the anti-establishment aura, as if it was something wild and improvised, under the morning sun. The grandfather of the family I serve, told me this is called the Stendhal syndrome, to feel that one is capable of dying of so much beauty. And consider -said the father- that this is only a small portion of the world as we knew it before the catastrophe. The old man told me not to forget: our barricade is the last remnants of beauty and civilisation. Sometimes I would like to go across, when I come back from the supermarket. To penetrate the streets where, they say, any sign of the past and any distinctive trait of the old beauty is fiercely prosecuted. But I can´t deny it, sometimes I would cross the line that separates us from that barbaric world. Some days I would gladly expose myself to the contact of those poor people who cannot enjoy and does not know how to enjoy beauty. Why? You may say. I don´t know, maybe to bring them some instruction, to tell them how we live inside the barricade, how we have organised our world to preserve what they destroy with their mere existence, without any effort, with disdain. Nonetheless, I know this is a fantasy I will never realise. Serving duties occupy my time and energy, the children and the grandfather require constant care and attention. On the other hand, the mother and her eternal sessions at the hairdresser constitute another sacrifice that our microsociety is willing to do in the name of beauty. At night we light fires and talk about the artworks disappeared after the cataclysm. Jokes are recited, remembereed from the wonderful TV programmes from national TV that will never again be retransmitted. And so, months and years go by, under the rigour of all climates. Witnessing the changes in the external aspect of our world, we get old, taking care of our small and beautiful, weatherworn territory.