The absent sculpture – Francesc Morera

As human beings, the need for truth forces us to go through life without knowing who we are; it is only later, through the other, that we discover ourselves. We embrace Art as one of the paths that will lead us to ignorance / discovery. We choose Art because it is distinguishably human and it escapes the bondage imposed by need and survival.

At the beginning of this century sculpture seems to be failing us for being too vague. It is unsure whether to go out to the public space and claim its space or hide at the back of the warehouse to lick its wounds and meditate. It comes down from the pedestals and creeps out, crawling along walls and sliding down from ceilings – uncertain of whether its time is over or, on the contrary, it is the beginning of a new era, now that it has finally managed to emerge from a shaft full of outstanding men and mercenaries, goddesses and courtesans.

Its absence plays tricks to apprehend the air, to give it shape, to domesticate it. It speaks with the air trying to seduce it, to capture it – its distress filling the space with bases where to rest if it gets tired. But sculpture is elusive. It hides behind shades and only shows us its diluted trace – rather than its face.

 A concave word and a convex concept meet near the skirting board at a corner of the room. Between them, the light draws a sharp edge and a crease, which climb up onto a podium and show off. They come together, they separate or they hide themselves, in a dance move for two where light is music.

 The word aspires to replace marble; the concept, bronze. As when seen through a mirror, life is replaced by its reflection and we, by seated androids with one only function to perform: swallow.

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