Status Quo

 

I am working on a chain of traces, decisions and events that

surround me. I do criticize the permanent failings of society, full

of contradictions, political greed, domestic atrocities, animal

abuse, women’s illiteracy, let us say human egotism.

Coming from a macho man society, I flew from home early in life,

and when I say flew it is because I became a flight attendant at

the age of 18. All my education came late in life.

As a woman, I am very concerned about our successes and

failures.

When my work is about women, taking me as a model is an

outgrowth of my anger taken in violent composition as a form of

vengeance.

My work started as a compendium of twisted figures, mostly

women mixed with a background full of brushstrokes done at

random, but lately my style is changing.

I am trying to simplify and as Engels said: “Any increase in

quantity decreases in quality”.

Starting from scratch, not transfers, vellums, newspapers,

monoprints etc.

Driven by a sense of urgency, with free and spontaneous

gestures, eliminating the superfluous, concentrate on the

emotions, in spite of my temperament, breaking down the limits

between abstract and figuration.

The most challenging part of my creation process right now is to

achieve the innocence of a child drawing.

With a physicality and a exuberance of the bodies related to the

expressionist primitivism, and although some of them may look

a grotesque satire, emanates from them a sincerity and a

tenderness that definitely makes my paintings more direct and

emphatic, not leaving the viewer indifferent.

Women are my source of inspiration, with their controversies,

and contradictions.

I state our gender condition, myself as a model, we are neither

such whores nor martyrs.

We are pioneering in suffering, but we hide dark zones and

certain ruses. In Status Quo, I make them come to light placing

myself in the equitable center, that’s why my work acquires a

controversial character.

Women during the course of history have been prototypes of an

abusive patriarchy which has created tendencies at the expense

of our bodies.

Status Quo, manifestation of static mannequins of changing

time, stands for solidarity, stop competing for the male,

eliminate rivalries and have confidence in ourselves, because

men will always erase us from sight, once age puts more weight

on our hips.

Un Paraiso Rodeado de Mierda.

 

Yo que siempre he vivido en ciudad pensaba que los cerdos venían directamente empaquetados en bandejas de supermercado, pero después de vivir 20 años al lado de una granja os aseguro, que se os quitarían las ganas de comer jamón y arroz con chorizo.

Ganaderos del PP, negocio rentable y pillar bien, se dedican a la pesadilla del engorde del animal que no se puede mover en un barracón maloliente, 6 meses en el que chilla, llora para acabar su corta vida en el matadero. Al PP, ya que el cerdo les tiene sin cuidado, marear con el “chirimiri” porcino que no cala/huele pero que te empapa de migraña la cabeza de olor a cerdo, pues se la suda. Se ahorran inversiones, se alargan transitorias, y no se invierte lo necesario en instalaciones caducas y obsoletas porque entonces no sería rentable. Callan como zorros, o simplemente están comprados y cagados. En cambio, sí es rentable el turismo de sus playas en las pedanías a 10 minutos escasos. En verano, cuando el hedor se hace insoportable se van a la costa a sus segundas residencias, y ya está.

¿Y os preguntareis, yo tan sensible, delicada y espiritual que coño hago al lado de una granja de cerdos? Hablemos del campo español en el que difícilmente se puede vivir. Los ganaderos taurinos del toro y el jamón de sebo, el que más, abundan en la Comunidad Valenciana, hay muchas granjas barracón en los pueblos del interior. Cerdo, toro y guiris de playa son su fuente de   riqueza y economía sumergida en fango.

Después de veranear en Marbella donde La Preysler, nos vinimos hacia el mediterráneo bien aconsejados. Mi madre, ya mayor vivía en Valencia de donde yo soy oriunda, y nos enamoramos de Alcocebre y su Montemar al mar por su sencillez y calidez. No sé cómo acabe en Alcalá, un error humano, un mal consejo, una mentira que te colocan por ingenua.  Mi marido, el inconcebible con 50 años nos introdujo en el mundo de los caballos. Enseguida me compre dos. En Alcocebre no se tienen caballos particulares, punto, tiene que ser por cojones en Alcalá, con los pollos, los cerdos y los burros.  Así que nos trasladamos a Alcalá city, pensando que era lo mismo que Alcocebre coast, mi dulce Móscatelo junto a la lesionada Uma  my son´s horse.

A veces escribo en inglés, corto y practico, comparado con el Toni Canto ´s Spanish.

 

Praise Be

 

For me the woman is a simple concept badly conceived, a handful of emotions and sentiments which moves within a system that is fragile and, most of all, of regression and repression.

For years, attractive women, and I want to make that very clear, have suffered vexation, humiliations, mistreatment and a lack of freedom of expression and decision making.

Of course, if you denounce it, you are accused of erroneous perceptions, I would dare say imaginary hallucinations which for their mere being so evident don’t appear credible.

Spain is a male chauvinist country where the so-called (by some) “Fiesta Nacional” implies a tremendous display of figures and figurines in front of an enormous animal, noble and ruminant, which probably would prefer to be left in peace on its pasture.

The mere fact of breeding it in order to kill it in public, dressed in sequin, is such presumption of pride which can only be associated with a lack of intellectual activity and incapacity of reasoning.

Local village and radical governments encourage this, without respecting the decision-making capacity of other sectors which don’t approve, and instead of protecting their rights attack their liberty.

There is female sector which goes with this type of chauvinists. Fighting for them, they are our worst enemies.

My work is about all this and it can’t be any other way since I still live in a decadent country which, in spite of all the technology that surrounds us, still smells of naphthalene.

For the Florence Biennale, I need potent, disturbing, courageous work with a strong conceptual load. That the spectators may face the work, that it may create rage and uncertainty in them and that they should leave convinced that this is not only a narrative work but something uncomfortable and challenging, by a female artist.