Fig. 4.
Hieronymus Bosch, El jardín de las delicias,
batientes cerrados / The garden of earthly de-
lights, with wings closed, c. 1500-05.
Fig. 5.
Gregorius Anglus Sallwigt (pseudónimo de /
pseudonym of Georg von Weilling), Sistema
Magicum Universi, Frankfurt, 1719. A: fuego,
B: agua, C: región de las estrellas, D: región
del aire, E: tierra, F: tierra virgen, G: aire
subterráneo; el punto rojo corresponde al
fuego central / A: fire, B: water, C: starry
region, D: air region, E: land, F: untrodden
land, G: underground air. The red dot
corresponds to the central fire.
is more. There is also the idea of duplicity, of changing the perspective in relation to the
topic depicted, which in daily language we would normally refer to with the phrase “two
sides of the same coin”. An apocalyptic vision like that in The Garden of Earthly Delights
by Hieronymus Bosch depicts an image that is fragmented in time and space: in the
centre is chaotic, entropic life on earth, and at the sides, the separation into a final order:
on the left is the heaven of the blessed, and opposite hell for the damned. This hierarchy
of life and destiny is radically altered when the triptych is closed. The three scenes, so
labyrinthically descriptive, come together in a grey sphere, atmospheric and spectral – an
image of unity that is at the same time an image of chaos.
Two series and two objects at the beginning of the exhibition speak of RGG’s
desire for expanded painting, like a welcome for visitors, or perhaps a warning. Together
with Ephemeral architecture, made up of a large mural and its variations or nuances in
six small watercolours, we come across a large typographic object – entitled Background
– about which we will speak later. Then, next to the Antisouvenirs series, also consisting
of a pictorial installation, he shows us a mysterious piece of optical furniture, a device for
vision, and – something we suspect even before we look inside – possibly a storehouse.
This is why RGG wants to be a non-muralist in his mural paintings, to place a
claim for the depth of the wall, its thickness and its meaning in the visual machinery. In
Ensayo de cuadros con pintura expandida en pared (reflexión) (Essay of pictures with
expanded painting on the wall (reflection)), he plays with space like a juggler with his
balls, on the back and on the front, left and right, up and down. Hey! All movements are
allowed: the picture is a kind of Punch and Judy show, a scene of puppets and concealing.
In Destinos no-turísticos ( Non-tourist destinations ), on the contrary, colour acquires a
political nuance. On a grey map of the world, like the decoloured planet Bosch painted
on the wings of The garden of earthly delights, (Fig. 4) there is orange, green, blue and
yellow concentrated in areas of conflict, as if it were no more than a question of Pantone,
as if nothing were actually happening. Indeed, it looks more like a question of tourism
than real landscaping: the Souvenirs had already warned us of the mania of bringing a
souvenir of war home. González García’s map of the world, so leaden, so stormy, seems
now to refer to catastrophe tourism and the ruin of tourism itself as a form of knowledge.
(Figs. 5, 6 and 7)
All of this is related to one of the pieces in this exhibition, Espacio de trabajo
- extracto del imaginario soportado (Work space - an extract from the imagery borne),
dating from this year. It consists of a precarious wooden structure, something like an
artist’s easel or a publicity stand, holding sixteen pictures of different sizes and put
together in an irregular way. The series on this kind of chaotic mosaic is nothing less than
a panoramic view of the place where it was painted, the artist’s studio in Matamorosa,
Cantabria: his working intimacy, his creative disorder, which no doubt contrasts with
the surgical cleanliness of the white square it is exhibited in; above all because the
predominant and obsessive intonation is a cold dark green, unifying the image and at
the same time adding a touch of sinister modulation. Let us not forget that the term
Unheimlich, about which Freud wrote a well-known article 8 , alluded precisely to the terror
of what is near, the worries that can arise from the daily space.
The assembly of the different pictures forms a circular or vaguely elliptic profile
that reminds us of the fisheye lens in photography, and also the lens on a night vision
camera, which is not exactly used for family or tourist photographs. On the ground lies
a sculpted poem – the word background in road motel letters – is taking shape and
manages to become an actual word, to go from the kingdom of text to that of the object,
and thereby start to say something. It is like a real sign, solid language.
The whole space in the studio is described, no corners are left out of the
frame: a panopticon, although not so much for guards as for the urge for description,
uncovering, intimacy, although the truth is it is a controlled intimacy. The artist invites
us to nose around the place where the piece was conceived and put together. And yet
as we said, Espacio de trabajo… is a stand-alone structure, so when we walk around
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8 E.T.A. Hoffmann, El hombre de la arena , preceded by Sigmund Freud’s essay, Lo siniestro, translated
by Luis López Ballesteros and Carmen Bravo-Villasante, published by José de Olañeta (Barcelona and
Palma de Mallorca, 1979).