{"id":627,"date":"2010-10-29T09:10:03","date_gmt":"2010-10-29T09:10:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.santiagotalavera.com\/obra\/"},"modified":"2024-05-28T09:51:16","modified_gmt":"2024-05-28T09:51:16","slug":"texts","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/santiagotalavera.com\/en\/texts\/","title":{"rendered":"TEXTS"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"wpb-content-wrapper\"><p>[vc_row][vc_column]        <div class=\"blue\">\r\n        \t<div class=\"tc-tabs-style3 row wdo-tabs-container\">\r\n                <ul class=\"nav nav-tabs\">\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-sara-donoso-calvoreclaim-the-pause-amidst-the-chaos-of-speedare-you-here-ayudas-rega-2023-cidade-da-culturasantiago-de-compostela-2023\"><\/p>\n<h3>Sara Donoso Calvo<\/h3>\n<h2>Reclaim the pause amidst the chaos of speed<\/h2>\n<h4><em>Are you here?<\/em>. Ayudas REGA 2023. Cidade da Cultura<br \/>\nSantiago de Compostela, 2023<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-manuel-anceauabout-devoiler-le-monde-andres-fernandez-and-santiago-talaveraexposicion-devoiler-le-monde-galerie-christian-berstparis-2023\"><\/p>\n<h3>Manuel Anceau<\/h3>\n<h2>About <em>D\u00e9voiler le monde<\/em>. Andr\u00e9s Fern\u00e1ndez and Santiago Talavera<\/h2>\n<h4>Exposici\u00f3n <em>D\u00e9voiler le monde<\/em>. Galerie Christian Berst<br \/>\nParis, 2023<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-fernando-castro-florezshipwreck-with-no-spectatorsel-pasado-habra-sido-un-planeta-extrano-gabinete-de-dibujosvalencia-2021\"><\/p>\n<h3>Fernando Castro Fl\u00f3rez<\/h3>\n<h2>Shipwreck With No Spectators<\/h2>\n<h4><em>El pasado habr\u00e1 sido un planeta extra\u00f1o<\/em>. Gabinete de dibujos<br \/>\nValencia, 2021<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-fernando-castro-floreza-world-without-ushauntopolis-ceart-fuenlabradamadrid-2020\"><\/p>\n<h3>Fernando Castro Fl\u00f3rez<\/h3>\n<h2>A world without us<\/h2>\n<h4><em>Hauntopolis<\/em>. CEART Fuenlabrada<br \/>\nMadrid, 2020<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-oscar-alonso-molinathe-poetics-of-santiago-talavera-in-eleven-thesessantiago-talavera-pocket-series-4-nocapaper-books-moresantander-2015\"><\/p>\n<h3>\u00d3scar Alonso Molina<\/h3>\n<h2>The Poetics of Santiago Talavera in eleven theses<\/h2>\n<h4>Santiago Talavera. Pocket Series #4. Nocapaper Books &amp; more<br \/>\nSantander, 2015<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-carlos-delgado-mayordomosantiago-talaveraone-project-artmadridmadrid-2015\"><\/p>\n<h3>Carlos Delgado Mayordomo<\/h3>\n<h2>Santiago Talavera<\/h2>\n<h4>One Project, ArtMadrid<br \/>\nMadrid, 2015<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-david-barrosantiago-talavera2014-antes-de-irse-40-ideas-sobre-pintura-dardo-editionsa-coruna-2013\"><\/p>\n<h3>David Barro<\/h3>\n<h2>Santiago Talavera<\/h2>\n<h4>2014\/ antes de irse. 40 ideas sobre pintura. Dardo editions<br \/>\nA Coru\u00f1a, 2013<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-tania-pardosomething-is-hidden-thereall-the-things-i-carry-with-me-la-new-gallerymadrid-2013\"><\/p>\n<h3>Tania Pardo<\/h3>\n<h2>Something is hidden there<\/h2>\n<h4>All the things I carry with me. La New Gallery<br \/>\nMadrid, 2013<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-ivan-lopez-munueraen-ese-pequeno-lugar-hay-una-gran-pruebaen-la-vida-anterior-centre-dexposicions-delxalicante-2011\"><\/p>\n<h3>Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3pez Munuera<\/h3>\n<h2>En ese peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba<\/h2>\n<h4><em>En la vida anterior<\/em>. Centre d'exposicions d'Elx<br \/>\nAlicante, 2011<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                        \t<li>\r\n                    \t\t<a data-toggle=\"tab\" href=\"#tab-graciela-garciala-isla-de-los-voracesque-el-destino-de-las-cosas-se-decida-en-lugares-pequenos-blanca-soto-artemadrid-2009\"><\/p>\n<h3>Graciela Garc\u00eda<\/h3>\n<h2>La isla de los voraces<\/h2>\n<h4><em>Que el destino de las cosas se decida en lugares peque\u00f1os<\/em>. Blanca Soto Arte<br \/>\nMadrid, 2009<\/h4>\n<p><\/a>\r\n                    \t<\/li>\r\n                                    <\/ul>\r\n                <div class=\"tab-content\">\r\n                \t     \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-sara-donoso-calvoreclaim-the-pause-amidst-the-chaos-of-speedare-you-here-ayudas-rega-2023-cidade-da-culturasantiago-de-compostela-2023-852\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>Are you here?<\/h2>\n<h4>Are you here? Vulnerability and emotions in the contemporary artistic realm.<\/h4>\n<p>[&#8230;] Giving in to haste is already having consequences on attention capacity, which decreases year by year due to the accelerated consumption of images that invade our daily lives. Every day, each user receives hundreds of inputs on their devices; attention becomes dispersed, and the quality of tasks suffers as they are now performed simultaneously. Hyperconnection causes a disconnection that can contradict the very fabric of the creative discipline. As Byung Chul Han expresses it: \u201cCulture requires an environment in which deep attention is possible. This is progressively replaced by a completely different form of attention, hyperattention. This dispersed attention is characterized by an accelerated shift of focus between different tasks, sources of information, and processes. Given its low tolerance for boredom, it also does not admit that deep boredom which would be of some importance for a creative process\u201d(1). When there is no time, the obligation to synthesize stifles concentration to the point that the result is a heap of tasks to be accomplished and standardized work. Access to information is democratic and circulates in all directions, but its consumption has become so instantaneous that it seems impossible to digest.<\/p>\n<p>In response, the artist Santiago Talavera clings to horror vacui to operate from a critical standpoint, presenting hyperpopulated dystopian scenarios. In the bulk of his work, the juxtaposition and accumulation of images function as a mirror of a fragmented reality that must face the ecological and existential challenges of the present. As strata of a world that shares debris and dissects excess, in Geology of Humanity (2019) there is a noticeable inclination to short-circuit the superficiality of the system through the appearance of multireality accentuated by the use of collage. The painting subtly fragments, error is stimulated like a glitch, everything seems cluttered, overflowing. The evident sense of decay, emphasized by the presence of the ruined plane, points to a feeling of desolation or catastrophe, while nature peeks through as a last cry of hope before everything turns monochrome. What overwhelms us in his work is our own identity reflected, the certainty that, in this invasion of the multiple, the diversion of thought infiltrates and saturates the capacity to process information. The paradox is given by that hypnotic overwhelming that keeps us looking at the image and that, ultimately, holds the precise reception time for questions to begin to manifest. We could say that Santiago Talavera uses the aesthetics of excess to disturb all that commercialized imagery in which we are immersed, as it is from the prophecy of collapse that he manages to pierce our consciences: \u201cIn the face of current immediacy and modes of art consumption, I continue to bet on works that propose a more deliberate visualization and listening. We can still relearn to stop and use attention and concentration, which are windows of access to reflection, to our intimate space, and even to critical readings of our environment.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>We inhabit superabundance; we are excess. We do so without filtering our impact and, with this, we stoke the wavering not only of the mind but also of the Earth, which already suffers the physical consequences of this new era of the Anthropocene. In the same way that Santiago Talavera points out the effects of our excesses in almost apocalyptic scenarios, where the glimmer of hope seems to lie in reclaiming a habitat shared by all beings embraced by nature.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212;&#8211;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\">(1) Byung Chul Han. <em>La sociedad del cansancio<\/em>. Herder editorial. Barcelona, 2012. P. 249<\/span><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/saradonoso.es\/publicaciones\/esta-usted-aqui\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">More info about the project<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-manuel-anceauabout-devoiler-le-monde-andres-fernandez-and-santiago-talaveraexposicion-devoiler-le-monde-galerie-christian-berstparis-2023-7\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>On D\u00e9voiler le monde<\/h2>\n<h4><em>D\u00e9voiler le monde. Works by Andr\u00e9s Fern\u00e1ndez and Santiago Talavera.<\/em> Galerie Christian Berst. Paris<\/h4>\n<p>Every encounter is an adventure, or at least a gamble, and the encounter proposed by Graciela Garc\u00eda in &#8220;D\u00e9voiler le monde. Works by Andr\u00e9s Fern\u00e1ndez and Santiago Talavera&#8221; turns out to be a winning bet. Firstly, because it reveals a connection between two works that seemed destined never to meet &#8220;physically&#8221; at first glance. Secondly, because however absorbed each may seem in its individuality, it is precisely their juxtaposition that appears to &#8220;open&#8221; a door of access for us.<\/p>\n<p>When two trajectories meet, they may annihilate each other or, magnetized by the same pole, repel: this can be seen in numerous collisions, thoughtless or simply lacking in raw material (mediocre works).<\/p>\n<p>Here, the encounter is meticulous, and if it seems so well-conceived, discreetly, by the director \u2013 we thank Graciela Garc\u00eda for going against her time \u2013 it is because the &#8220;raw material&#8221; is appropriate.<\/p>\n<p>You can lean towards A. Fern\u00e1ndez or S. Talavera, this is a personal matter, but obviously, this is not what G. Garc\u00eda proposes: rather, (for those who prefer one or the other), to better understand this preference. And for those who appreciate both: to find, in each of their bodies of work, a third creation, formed by pieces of one and the other, with each seeming to subtitle the other.<\/p>\n<p>From S. Talavera, we think of loose pages from a vast atlas, soiled, torn pages that no human (or animal) eye will read: useless archives for a memory that cannot fit into any time. Time has flown, leaving space orphaned: here places seem to cry out that they don&#8217;t know, or no longer know, where they come from, whose children they are. Because also (after a cataclysm \u2013 or even not: the simple slipping of beings and things, the slipping of the world into a foreseen, announced paralysis) time breaks here, shattering into rubble, like glass whose fragments travel, carried by the wind. But this wind itself, what is it then but the breath-witness that once burst forth: with contemporary meticulousness (sometimes approaching \u201clicking\u201d), yet translating a somewhat romantic taste for beauty, the resonance of ruins \u2013 the work of S. Talavera (what is shown to us in this encounter) is like a chronicle that tells nothing, I mean the effect of the breath of the end of times.<\/p>\n<p>Life here is no longer capable of restarting the &#8220;carousel&#8221; of the world (not even sending a rocket into the future): empty &#8220;attractions&#8221; abound, as if the heart of the world had stopped, because there was no longer a reason to make life a celebration (even a sad one). Indeed, there is a terrible &#8220;wound&#8221; (title of a striking drawing, where a crater is displayed like a wound in the flesh of the world) preventing any joy, but all of Talavera&#8217;s art is to leave the viewer completely incapable of saying whether this &#8220;wound&#8221; is the wounded body (the ultimate catastrophe), or if it is the body itself (then there is no catastrophe, life itself is this catastrophe). Memento mori perhaps, but painted with such strange gentleness, such a curious way of &#8220;letting Death rest&#8221; (as one lets the dough rest to make cakes lighter), that one finally doubts if this work speaks the language of the future, if it wants to be &#8220;prophetic,&#8221; or rather (I think), if it refers to some initial big bang \u2013 and then the aerial debris covering this work would be the pieces of the primordial Light broken at moment \u201ct\u201d, traveling, like cosmic waves, throughout the universe.<\/p>\n<p>The image then comes from this &#8220;silent catastrophe&#8221; that would be the cosmos itself \u2013 by the grace of an oxymoron that might be, just an effect of language bewildering our minds, hardly able then to grasp both ends of the rope.<\/p>\n<p>Some would say the Image is false, arbitrary; but I have an excuse: it came to me, not so much from S. Talavera&#8217;s work, but from A. Fern\u00e1ndez&#8217;s. As if he (I was saying) \u201csubtitled\u201d the other. With Fern\u00e1ndez, indeed, it is the frenetic writing of a genuine index of the World-Book that we are witnessing. An index with letters and numbers, or simple lines but always aiming to help the inhabitant of the World (and undoubtedly A. Fern\u00e1ndez first) to orient themselves. It is not surprising (as G. Garc\u00eda informs us) that Fern\u00e1ndez considers his GPS to be alive, truly endowed with emotion. For it is the Trajectory of anything (and above all in the Trajectory of each person) that this work focuses on: to fix it, to set boundaries, especially to give it (there lies its beauty) its enigmatic wandering.<\/p>\n<p>The two instrumentalists say that perhaps when one listens a bit more, it is possible to perceive the original background noise for one \u2013 the music of the spheres for the other. And it is the art of conductor Graciela Garc\u00eda to make both concert instrumentalists heard \u2013 for the greatest pleasure, and the greatest recognition of the music lovers.<\/p>\n<p>Manuel Anceau. July 2023<\/p>\n<p>&#8212;&#8211;[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-fernando-castro-florezshipwreck-with-no-spectatorsel-pasado-habra-sido-un-planeta-extrano-gabinete-de-dibujosvalencia-2021-723\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>Shipwreck With No Spectators<\/h2>\n<h4>Exhibition <em>El pasado habr\u00e1 sido un planeta extra\u00f1o<\/em><\/h4>\n<p>There are forms of \u201cpoetic justice\u201d that take on a sinister dimension (both familiar and rendered desolate due to repression), as if an ill-fated destiny were condemning the catastrophe underway to invisibility. The ghost doesn\u2019t reappear or disturb the fantasy, and it is not a case of a \u201cpatriarchal logos\u201d (\u00e1 la Shakespeare) that cries out for revenge as a consequence of the betrayal of blood ties; rather, what occurs is a lack of an \u201cevent,\u201d an asymptomatic standstill, if you will excuse the paradox. In the autumn of 2020, after postponing the exhibition Hauntopolis in the Art Center Tom\u00e1s y Valiente in Fuenlabrada (planned for the previous spring), we decided to exhibit the pieces for one week, in a moment of \u201capparent\u201d de-escalation of the Covid-19 pandemic. We had selected specific works from Santiago Talavera in which he addresses issues like the ecological crisis, animal welfare, and what could be described as an aesthetic\/ethical fight striving for global justice. Drawings, paintings, and an impressive art installation (in which there was a wall marked with the phrase \u201cWe are only apocalyptic so that we can be mistaken,\u201d from G\u00fcnther Anders) had been distributed throughout the space in order to provoke collective thinking about the dire situation in which we currently find ourselves. The exhibition was never inaugurated. That is to say, that with the exception of those who set it up, those in charge of the center, the artist, and the curator, no one was able to wander through the space and observe the works of art on display. The \u201clock-down measures\u201d imposed zoom logic, the \u201cvicarious experience\u201d of a virtual tour which, at the end of the day, barely generates any critical intensity.<\/p>\n<p>Calamities can magnetically attract other disasters. Shortly after, Talavera\u2019s studio flooded and many of the works from the cancelled exhibit suffered damage. The artist himself told me that he considered his \u201cinvisible\u201d show a kind of \u201ccatastrophic meta-narrative,\u201d and that when he saw that some of his works were literally floating in the water, he sank into a justified dejection. It was as though all his artistic meditation about the end of all ends had materialized in a subjective demolition. He had to tap into his last reserves of energy to create \u201csomething with that,\u201d conscious of the difficulty or even the impossibility of rhetoricalizing the situation.<\/p>\n<p>Since then, Santiago Talavera seems to have adopted the concept of art as a language of suffering, along with a conviction expressed by Adorno in his Aesthetic Theory, which states that the appearance of \u201creconciled\u201d art must be broken by a heterogenous experience in order to literally \u201callow debris of experience\u201d to create a different function and aesthetic effect. With admirable courage, this artist rescued and restored his ruined works of art, undertaking work that he associates with Paul Virilio\u2019s concept of \u201cthe original accident.\u201d In an intuition I had while simultaneously listening to Talavera while I was reading Athanasius Kircher, I realized that, more than a Noah\u2019s Ark-style flood narrative, what he does is work with a determination that is more forensic in nature than archeological. On the fragments of a wall he had to knock down, he creates hypnotic drawings in an attempt to make that which is catastrophically connected visible, such as the connection between the fluttering of a butterfly\u2019s wings and a meteorological phenomenon in London.<\/p>\n<p>We stand before a shipwreck with no spectators, where we cannot sweetly contemplate, as Lucretius would, how the ignorant suffer in a cruel world. Nor do we feel that our relationship with Nature can be restored through a seclusion from the world to help us reach the golden cross on the mountaintop. Romantic sublimity has been (perversely and joyfully) desecrated by contemporary shapelessness, and the expansion of cynicism affects even nostalgic feelings. Santiago Talavera doesn\u2019t undertake the Grand Tour in the manner of Goethe in order to study volcanoes; for him, the eruptions are a sign of the destruction of the world in which we live (or survive); Neptunism is of little importance when we are witnessing the disappearance of permafrost. The most worrisome part is that many politicians, as well as many inhabitants of this planet, refuse to change their lifestyles and even deny that we are in a critical situation, transformed into subjects that refuse to see, such as those blind, superstitious people against whom Diderot railed.<\/p>\n<p>In this Gabinete de Dibujos exhibit, Santiago Talavera presents his work Reinventing the Show, an extraordinary drawing of an empty theater which looks as if a meteorite has hit it, surrounded by various eruptions. Our gaze is \u201clocated\u201d on the stage as if we were the actors in this disaster; from this perspective, we can also see a bird attempting to flee. Talavera began thinking about this piece during the months of \u201csuccessive cancelations\u201d of Hauntopolis; he recovered a photograph of a revolving theater from somewhere in his archives and finally managed to give solid form to the ghost. What is on display here is not melancholy in the style of baroque theater, nor is it a mere realist conflict (with that bourgeois society that barely perceives the rumor of historical conflict from the comfort of its home), but rather a sort of theatrical interruption (in the Brechtian sense) that attempts to leave catharsis behind, using alienation to provoke thought and possibly achieve solidarity.<\/p>\n<p>In a conference he gave in CENDEAC in May 2020 (in the cycle \u201cThe End of the World. An Agenda for Another Planet\u201d), Talavera defined his work as \u201cpreventative actions.\u201d His apocalyptic visions have absolutely no intention of collaborating with the tanato-political discipline, nor do they seek to reincarnate Cassandra\u2019s fate. What Talavera does is to subtly detail the catastrophe (which for Benjamin is embodied in the fact that the worst \u201ccontinues to occur\u201d), even distributing magnifying glasses around texts and drawings to emphasize the need for us to become more involved spectators. In his paintings, he introduces glitches to lend credence to the productive dimension of error. He likewise undertakes fascinating d\u00e9tournements of historical images, as in his piece created from photographs of the Cuban \u201cmissile\u201d crisis.<\/p>\n<p>Santiago Talavera\u2019s apocalyptic imagery recedes dialectically; for instance, in his work No More Dystopia (2020), he attempts to place a limit on wallowing in disaster. The spirit of \u201cfatalism\u201d is subjected to a mise en abyme, although it is difficult for him to rid himself of the frustration of having exhibited his work without anyone seeing any of it. The anomaly of Hauntopolis seems to be in line with the speculation of \u201ca world without us,\u201d illustrated, as Talavera pointed out to me, by that scene from Alfonso Cuar\u00f3n\u2019s Children of Men (2006), in which works of art are in the hands of powerful \u201cbunkerized people,\u201d destined not to be looked at. Capitalist realism takes on an impressive allegorical reduction in that \u201cstate of exception.\u201d From the archeology of the flood and by positioning himself in a \u201cforensic\u201d manner, Santiago Talavera has painstakingly drawn terrible scenes (such as that fragment of a wall which shows a classic theater in which an empty chair stands out, a chair which will, in the manner of Beckett, grant no one a place to rest), not to sublimate disaster, but to remind us that \u201cthere are one hundred seconds left until midnight.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Fernando Castro Fl\u00f3rez[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-fernando-castro-floreza-world-without-ushauntopolis-ceart-fuenlabradamadrid-2020-1\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>A world without us.<br \/>\n[Notes on the ambiental-utopian imaginary of Santiago Talavera]<\/h2>\n<h4>Text for <em>Hauntopolis<\/em><\/h4>\n<p>\u201cWe are\u2014like in the 19th century\u2014living on the great crossroads of a total distrusts on institutions; but now utopias are created by <em>marketing<\/em>, and it is reality itself that creates its own distopias.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn1\" name=\"_ftnref1\">[1]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Among the many reasons for the advent of \u201caccelerationism\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn2\" name=\"_ftnref2\">[2]<\/a> we shouldn\u2019t dismiss those social pathologies that have emerged from the systematic distortions of the conditions of communication. \u201cIn the age of globalisation and the web\u2019s \u201cu-topicality,\u201d time is increasingly conceived as capable of compressing, or even of annihilating, space.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn3\" name=\"_ftnref3\">[3]<\/a> Space \u201ccontracts\u201d virtually by effect of the speed of transport and communication. We know that there\u2019s always something outside a media. Each media constructs a corresponding zone of immediacy, of the unmediated and transparent in contrast with the media itself. From our flat\u2019s windows we\u2019ve moved on to the windows of computers, from the ways of dwelling to the ways of computing,<a href=\"#_ftn4\" name=\"_ftnref4\">[4]<\/a> in a mutation of what we perceive as \u201coutside\u201d but also in a complex game of transparency and opacity. The (presumed) age of <em>access<\/em> is nothing but an economy of (supposedly) \u201cauthentic\u201d experiences.<a href=\"#_ftn5\" name=\"_ftnref5\">[5]<\/a> Perhaps our \u201cacceleration\u201d is no other thing but the sedentary bogged-down binge-watching of the ubiquitous catalogue of home shopping networks in a time which is manifestly complex or, to put it simply, out-of-joint.<a href=\"#_ftn6\" name=\"_ftnref6\">[6]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>To approach Santiago Talavera\u2019s work, which is, as Noem\u00ed M\u00e9ndez aptly notes, also a <em>plastic activist<\/em>,<a href=\"#_ftn7\" name=\"_ftnref7\">[7]<\/a> entails also a <em>raising of awareness <\/em>about his radical speculative interests, but above all else it reveals an aesthetic strategy which he has articulated as a critical reaction within the bosom of a \u201cculture of the now.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn8\" name=\"_ftnref8\">[8]<\/a> In his works he pays constant attention to landscape; fascinated by Patinir, by Hiroshige\u2019s visions of Fuji-san, enraptured admirer of Friedrich <em>The Sea of Ice<a href=\"#_ftn9\" name=\"_ftnref9\"><strong>[9]<\/strong><\/a><\/em> (an hypnotic condensation of the <em>Winter Journey<\/em> which leads, explicitly, to the shipwrecking of all hope), taking romanticism as a cultural current very much alive, without falling notwithstanding into picturesque sublimations. \u201cIn one of my drawings, <em>The Point of View<\/em>, I imagined\u2014says Santiago Talavera\u2014Petrarch, walking up to the top of the Mount Ventoux once again, and seeing an objectified nature of fluoride colours where the stones looked like candy.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn10\" name=\"_ftnref10\">[10]<\/a> In his prodigious and obsessive paintings there\u2019s a constant disjointness of the logic backdrop-figure as well as a delight in miniatures as if reality would have been consumed into a uncanny diorama. Our gaze is entrapped inside strange angles or, to employ a barthesian term, in fascinating <em>punctualisations<\/em>: art touches because of its details.<a href=\"#_ftn11\" name=\"_ftnref11\">[11]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Santiago Talavera has related his plastic methodology with the passage of \u201cLas babas del diablo\u201d [\u201cThe Devil\u2019s Drool\u201d] by Cort\u00e1zar (which inspired, to a certain extent, Antonioni\u2019s <em>Blow Up<\/em>) where photographs are amplified several times and also to an interest for haikus and the Japanese garden. In some occasions he has mentioned that his \u201chyperzoom\u201d aesthetic has something to do with the fascination that he experience before that scene in <em>Blade Runner <\/em>where Detective Deckard uses a machine to gain access into a photograph, giving a third dimension to the image, suggesting that \u201ccertain images hide crucial details.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn12\" name=\"_ftnref12\">[12]<\/a> We visually <em>inhabit<\/em> a \u201cstage-managed\u201d space which seems to reveal the fractal dimension of nature where macro and micro elements interchange their qualities, forcing us to accept the truth that one derives from the title of one of this artist\u2019s exhibitions: <em>Que el destino de las cosas se decida en lugares peque\u00f1os<\/em> [<em>Let the fate of things be decided in small places<\/em>] (Galer\u00eda Blanca Soto, 2005). Santiago Talavera can be interpreted as a <em>pointillist <\/em>painter of time, capable of bearing witness to ruptures and continuities, unfolding an imaginary that gives cohesion to the heterogeneous and even to the pulverized.<a href=\"#_ftn13\" name=\"_ftnref13\">[13]<\/a> His landscapes, between paradisiac and dystopian, conjuring up the excesses of Brueghel\u2019s or Bosco\u2019s imaginaries, have something of that <em>baroque allegory<\/em>, that is, of a staging of sadness, leaving us as astounded spectators before the shipwrecking of the world.<\/p>\n<p>In an article titled \u201cThe Great Consolidation of Power,\u201d which commented upon the multiple disruptions brought by the year 2010\u2014the financial collapse of Greece, the cloud that came from Iceland, covering the skies of Europe and the great petrol spill in the Gulf of Mexico\u2014Ross Douthat, think-piece contributor for the <em>New York Times<\/em>, wrote: \u201cThe panic of 2008 happened partly because the public interest had tied itself so much with private interests that the later couldn\u2019t allow themselves to fail.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn14\" name=\"_ftnref14\">[14]<\/a> We are marked, in every sense, by catastrophes, from the shipwrecking of the Prestige to the disaster of Fukushima, in a planetary collapse that has also consequences on the \u201caesthetic bubble.\u201d In a way we are living a \u201cKorean experience\u201d (hyperconnected, but on the edge of suicide), frenetically stirred by nothing, addicted to the <em>gangnam style<\/em>. \u201cThe South-Korean mind\u2014notes Franco \u201cBifo\u201d Berardi\u2014has reconfigured itself in this artificial landscape and has entered without problems into the digital sphere, with a low degree of cultural resistance if we compare it with other populations of the world. In a social space emptied out by military and cultural aggressions, the Korean experience is defined by an extreme level of individualisation and, simultaneously, it is directing its steps toward a complete rewiring of the collective mind.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn15\" name=\"_ftnref15\">[15]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>When History seems obsolete or a mere spectral repertoire, perpetrating the dismantling of the common goods as carried out by neoliberal egoism,<a href=\"#_ftn16\" name=\"_ftnref16\">[16]<\/a> it becomes difficult to recuperate the critical impulse and it might even seem that the utopian is absolutely precluded. The <em>horror vacui<\/em> operates, in Santiago Talavera\u2019s work, <a href=\"#_ftn17\" name=\"_ftnref17\">[17]<\/a> as a reaction to that history smashed to pieces. In his works he displays surprising accumulations and superpositions, making use of collage, \u201csimulating\u201d the <em>glitch<\/em>. One must understand that\u2014planned\u2014vertigo of juxtapositions in a ludic manner,<a href=\"#_ftn18\" name=\"_ftnref18\">[18]<\/a> like an exercise of immersion into a present which offers simultaneous situations. \u201cWe live\u2014notes Santiago Talavera\u2014in a world of copies of copies, in a multi-referential and vertiginous world which tends toward accumulation.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn19\" name=\"_ftnref19\">[19]<\/a> This <em>artist of the hybrid<\/em>, as I\u2019ve indicated, is attracted by the detail, sucked in by the wound. One has only to contemplate that drawing, explicitly entitled <em>The Wound <\/em>(2015), where it seems like the pain of the animal could be mitigated by adamantine perfection, to understand that this artist doesn\u2019t look for \u201cpamphleteering\u201d solutions but rather keeps always an <em>enigmatic <\/em>coefficient. In his fragmentary discourse, manifest in his beautiful miniature gardens, images are always in movement, broken-and-rebuilt, cut up and placed in theatrical arrangements borne out of the consciousness that there\u2019s no such thing as a self-sufficient totality.<a href=\"#_ftn20\" name=\"_ftnref20\">[20]<\/a> He resorts, cunningly, to inverosimile <em>particularisations<\/em>, avoiding a delight or enthusiasm at a distance, showing us an edulcorated and, ultimately, bitter landscape.<a href=\"#_ftn21\" name=\"_ftnref21\">[21]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe arrive too late, strutting about the stage of the already experienced, the already given: the performance already finished.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn22\" name=\"_ftnref22\">[22]<\/a> Without a doubt the poetics of Santiago Talavera denotes a melancholic undercurrent, which results from a backward glance at lost paradises<a href=\"#_ftn23\" name=\"_ftnref23\">[23]<\/a> as well as from a <em>nostalgia of the future<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn24\" name=\"_ftnref24\">[24]<\/a> His is a poetics based on calamity and defeat, nearing the register of science fiction or the tone of films like David Lynch\u2019s <em>Lost Highway<\/em> where present and future blend together, or in the dystopian visions of <em>Blade Runner<\/em>. Let us recall the phrase \u201cThen we are stupid and we will die\u201d which Pris says, one of the four replicants of Ridley Scott\u2019s film who escaped to the extraterrestrial colony and came back to the Earth to meet the only person that could prolong his life, the God of Biomechanics, the executive director of Tyrell Corporations, who created the body and mind of the Nexus generation. To think today of the <em>multiple catastrophes <\/em>that devastate us (in the environment, in the fabric of our social well-being and across our education systems we are experiencing an unimaginable devastation, suffering beyond descriptions) requires new methodologies. \u201cSemiocapitalism\u2014I quote Berardi again here\u2014has infiltrated itself into the nervous cells of conscious organisms, inoculating them with a thanato-political logic, with a morbid sense penetrating our collective unconscious, our culture and sensibility; this is the obvious effect of sleep deprivation and a direct consequence of the stress imposed upon our attention.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn25\" name=\"_ftnref25\">[25]<\/a> The franticness of <em>forced socialisation <\/em>reconfigures or, rather, keeps <em>subjectivities <\/em>available. Economic obsession provokes a feeling of constant mobilisation of the productive energy. According to Jonathan Crary, this is the form of contemporary progress: the ruthless appropriation and domination of time and experience, the ruthless colonisation of sleep.<a href=\"#_ftn26\" name=\"_ftnref26\">[26]<\/a> The works of Santiago Talavera are at the same time, oniric and extremely real, dystopian and concrete, laid out in a masterful game of scale, imposing, with their forced perspectives, a sensation of anomaly.<a href=\"#_ftn27\" name=\"_ftnref27\">[27]<\/a> Hito Steyerl has pointed out that the vertical perspective (hegemonic in the world of videogames and also in most contemporary audiovisual productions) integrates military, surveillance and entertainment uses.<a href=\"#_ftn28\" name=\"_ftnref28\">[28]<\/a> The displacement of Santiago Talavera\u2019s video-musical <em>Cortar por lo sano <\/em>[<em>A Clean Break<\/em>] is, to a certain extent, a <em>drone journey <\/em>which elevates us as much as it throws us down into a complete defeat, continuing with that interweaving of the sublime and the infraordinary which is so characteristic of his imagination.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe theme of the untamed paradise\u2014notes \u00d3scar Alonso Molina\u2014which banishes us is a recurring motif for radical subjectivism. Talavera establish himself within this long tradition, introducing new age-specific aspects of a ecological nature and that new gestaltic consciousness which locates man in the middle of a complex ecosystem, in an ecological niche in equality of conditions, but with greater responsibility.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn29\" name=\"_ftnref29\">[29]<\/a> But this artist of the sublime doesn\u2019t find himself in a tempestuous sea but\u2014to put it provocatively\u2014in Chernobyl.<a href=\"#_ftn30\" name=\"_ftnref30\">[30]<\/a> We perhaps need a new <em>cartographic-landscaping <\/em>process to understand a world dominated by a \u201ccruel aesthetic.\u201d Santiago Talavera tries, relentlessly, to <em>think the world<\/em>, allegorising the disasters of capitalism,<a href=\"#_ftn31\" name=\"_ftnref31\">[31]<\/a> at a time when neuro-totalitarianism is taken as an unavoidable and impending possibility, in an age hit by waves of <em>post-truth <\/em>tsunamis and riddled by complete informational opacity. <em>Consparanoia<\/em> has profound roots in our world, as if the inheritance of the school of suspicion were the \u201caddiction\u201d to detective narratives. \u201cIf detective stories\u2014remarks Ferr\u00e1n Barenblit and Cuaht\u00e9moc Medina in the catalogue of the exhibition about <em>Forensic Architecture <\/em>that they curated in 2017\u2014had a central role in producing the imaginary of surveillance society as a product of a kind of rational police magic, the system of government of our age finds in the media staging and the investigation entertainment and in forensic trials (such as those of TV shows like <em>CSI<\/em>) one of its greatest consense-producing theaters. It refers to a world where the judiciary process (and practices such as the public exhumation of mortal remains) has turned into an ever-present passage of the experience of the present, just as the extended privatisation of violence as a mode of production around the world.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn32\" name=\"_ftnref32\">[32]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Eyal Weizman, leader of the <em>forensic architecture <\/em>project, speaks of how they used smoke clouds produced by bombs as an architectonic testimony. \u201cThose clouds are in themselves the limit concept of architecture, since they reveal something essential about it. In the first place, the cloud originating from the bomb is composed of steam and dust from all the materials that made up the building (concrete, cast, wood, plastic, textile, drug, remains, humans). It is a building in a gaseous state.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn33\" name=\"_ftnref33\">[33]<\/a> Weizman manages to take stock, in a critical and extremely lucid key, of the <em>Th\u00e9orie du nuage <\/em>of the Art Historian Hubert Damisch: we move through the landscaping of the 16th century to the military systems of the brutail border that Israel has build up with Palestine. The paradox is that <em>to have one\u2019s head in the clouds <\/em>is not a synonym of \u201cdigress\u201d but, on the contrary, of <em>making a point\u2014<\/em>barthersian pun intended\u2014 on the criminal dimension of political power. Santiago Talavera has drawn, with an impressive minuteness, a <em>detail <\/em>from the eruption of Indonesia\u2019s volcano Tambora as an example of our <em>accident-ridden world<\/em>; those volcanic clouds are <em>signs of the contemporary disaster, <\/em>elements that this artist analyzes with a \u201cforensic precision.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The brilliantly catastrophic imaginary of Santiago Talavera,<a href=\"#_ftn34\" name=\"_ftnref34\">[34]<\/a> characterised by a distrust toward the flow of the world, leads to the conclusion that we <em>are a plague<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn35\" name=\"_ftnref35\">[35]<\/a>; As Walter Benjamin warned in the final considerations to <em>The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, <\/em>that man has turned its own self-destruction into a spectacle of the highest standard. In the works of Santiago Talavera man doesn\u2019t appear\u2014only the spectator remains or the point of view where he would to place himself. \u201cBecause we are no longer there. Our cultural remains stand, piled up, absurdly mixed up and devoid of meaning: the great and the dreadful are by now indistinguishable, though pessimism rules above it all. We contemplate the last scene: the world goes on without us (the curtain doesn\u2019t fall).\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn36\" name=\"_ftnref36\">[36]<\/a> What happens is no longer a slow cataclysm<a href=\"#_ftn37\" name=\"_ftnref37\">[37]<\/a> but an accelerating catastrophe. It isn\u2019t only that the world is a (memoryless) museum, a dispositif (<em>gestell <\/em>in the heideggerian sense), which exhibits everything while at the same time it excludes us,<a href=\"#_ftn38\" name=\"_ftnref38\">[38]<\/a> but that what remains is a veritable junkyard. Santiago Talavera appears like a <em>speleologist or cartographer <\/em>of the human garbage dump, contemplating our abandoned objects,<a href=\"#_ftn39\" name=\"_ftnref39\">[39]<\/a> the derelict traces of our consumerist world where products come from the factory with \u201cprogrammed obsolescence,\u201d the abject accumulations of an age defined by the exponential growth of the waste disposal industry.<\/p>\n<p>Santiago Talavera warns that all landscapes entail a collective portrait<a href=\"#_ftn40\" name=\"_ftnref40\">[40]<\/a> and, in his case, what he shows us is the uncanny (in the freudian sense, something familiar that becomes strange by way of repression) as in those drawings of Santiago Talavera filled with rotting bodies.<a href=\"#_ftn41\" name=\"_ftnref41\">[41]<\/a> Many of his works are disturbing, gifted with a rare power of seduction, but at the same time affording a bittersweet aftertaste, an impression brought about by something <em>undefined<\/em>, like a throbbing of <em>suspense.<\/em><a href=\"#_ftn42\" name=\"_ftnref42\">[42]<\/a> We have been\u2014pun somewhat intended\u2014<em>suspended<\/em>, remaining only <em>in absentia<\/em>. In his magnificent and disquieting drawings, developed as prolonged experiences of time,<a href=\"#_ftn43\" name=\"_ftnref43\">[43]<\/a> he sediments his experiences<a href=\"#_ftn44\" name=\"_ftnref44\">[44]<\/a> and gives us allegories about the need for spaces of dwelling, tracing houses which are perhaps in need of a heartening drive of hope.<\/p>\n<p>As Deborah Danowski and Eduardo Viveiros de Castro note: <em>dystopias only proliferate<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn45\" name=\"_ftnref45\">[45]<\/a> Santiago Talavera, in a truly self-critical turn (taking certain inertias of the catastrophic perspective in a dialectic manner), composed a piece where some workers (in a singular re-apparition of the human figure) struggle to rebuild a gigantic HOLLYWOOD sign to then, in truth, force the sentence NO MORE DYSTOPIA. Perhaps this artist wants to avoid Laocoonte\u2019s destiny, without forgetting that <em>any gift can be poisoned<\/em>, but understanding that an overdose of omens is somewhat counterproductive. The <em>pyknolepsy of the worse <\/em>can end up in a lullaby and critical discourse and accomplish, along the lilts of a letany, the function of a mere accompaniment to the great unfolding of the the same always. Even if we are etherised by a <em>scopic narcolepsy<\/em> \u201cother things\u201d apart from the <em>pre-cooked <\/em>can take place. \u201cArt capable of bearing with its destiny must be able to propose a short-circuit in the cycles of the \u201calready seen\u201d so that, at the same time, it doesn\u2019t redound on another opportunity for us to witness the vision\u2014behind the screen\u2014of the Accident. An aesthetics of failure worth paying attention would have as its mission quitting this collective paranoia as the catastrophic sublime. Before the epilepsies of art, absorbed by the porn psychophonies of having nothing to see due to an hyperexcess of visibility, against an art whose thirst of events leads it to understand the real as a stammering of the obscene and the hyperbanal, only an aesthetic of ellipsis is possible, a strategy of terrorist bombardment, an art of rejoicement before that Real which ignores us before our very eyes.\u201d <a href=\"#_ftn46\" name=\"_ftnref46\">[46]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Mark Fisher, an author of Santiago Talavera\u2019s devotion, pointed out that the dystopia of the 21st century is not only something that was imposed upon us, but something that was constructed after our own captured desires. <em>Hauntology <\/em>is something of a <em>failed mourning<\/em>:<a href=\"#_ftn47\" name=\"_ftnref47\">[47]<\/a> our future has been stolen. The club of hypertechnological snobs has vindicated and even turned into marketing that <em>failure <\/em>which offers the \u201cperfect camouflage.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn48\" name=\"_ftnref48\">[48]<\/a> A legion of <em>idiots <\/em>offers the spectacle (para-warholian) of the <em>nothing special<\/em>, under the appearance of understanding absolutely nothing they make an attempt to <em>hipsterise their life<\/em>, showing across the <em>total screen <\/em>that there is no other way of contemporary being other than showing oneself as <em>strictly bipolar<\/em>. We have, literally, seen it all and with the universalisation of the <em>Ludovico Treatment <\/em>we can smile and declared that \u201cwe are healed,\u201d though traces of spit still cover in our faces. We are passionately invested in the obscene and we share \u201cexperiences\u201d in an <em>ultra-digital reality show<\/em> as (unconscious) collaborators on the global regime of surveillance and control.<\/p>\n<p>Oscar Alonso Molina warned that the will for a <em>Gesamtkunstwerk <\/em>in the aesthetic of Santiago Talavera, both in his installations (as in that occasion when, compelled by an extreme passion, moved his studio into the gallery) as in his musical compositions. This artist keeps a constant rapport with music,<a href=\"#_ftn49\" name=\"_ftnref49\">[49]<\/a> recognizing the influence of Philip Glass and especially that of Steve Reich and his composition <em>Music for 18 Musicians<\/em>. His pieces can be understood as modulations within the <em>ambient <\/em>or <em>noise <\/em>genre, being manifestations of a preoccupation on the concept of the <em>ambiental.<\/em><a href=\"#_ftn50\" name=\"_ftnref50\">[50]<\/a> The ecological consciousness of this artist<a href=\"#_ftn51\" name=\"_ftnref51\">[51]<\/a> can be related to the concept of <em>atmospheres <\/em>as proposed by Gernot B\u00f6hme which brings Benjamin\u2019s notion of the \u201caura\u201d into other \u201cspheres of presence.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn52\" name=\"_ftnref52\">[52]<\/a> If man is absent perhaps it is perhaps a chance to think other forms of inhabiting the present, pulling the break on our <em>devastating <\/em>actions, learning to saunter, as in Tarkovsky&#8217;s film (as Santiago Talavera points out himself, this filmmaker is the one that has influenced him the most), about the <em>zone <\/em>where we are (still) forced to live.<\/p>\n<p>We are living the \u201cexperience of the swarm,\u201d oriented, without the need to make use of the subliminal, by the \u201cbubble filter.\u201d The contemporary anesthetising of our sensibilities, its systematic tearing apart, \u201cis not only\u2014we read in <em>Now <\/em>by the Invisible Committee\u2014the result of survival in the bosom of capitalism, but its condition. We don\u2019t suffer as individuals, we suffer in our attempt to be individuals.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn53\" name=\"_ftnref53\">[53]<\/a> In the tsunami of <em>big data <\/em>what governs royally is the kingdom of lies.<a href=\"#_ftn54\" name=\"_ftnref54\">[54]<\/a> Your computer screen, as noted by Eli Pariser, is increasingly less a kind of unidirectional mirror \u201cthat reflects your own interests, while algorithm analysts consider everything you click on.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn55\" name=\"_ftnref55\">[55]<\/a> In the middle of a process of <em>uberisation <\/em>of the world, at a time when we have initiated the age of \u201cmolecular machinery,\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn56\" name=\"_ftnref56\">[56]<\/a> which brings about enormous emotional turmoils, our \u201cculture of lack of attention\u201d is one, almost always, of profound <em>antipathy<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn57\" name=\"_ftnref57\">[57]<\/a> The hypertrophic stimulation and the simulation of pleasure breed obsessions if not a profound boredom at the heart of hyperexcitation.<a href=\"#_ftn58\" name=\"_ftnref58\">[58]<\/a> We are exhausted about what Ernest Gellner has termed the \u201cInternational of Disbelieving Consumers,\u201d we have born the brunt of the <em>austericide<\/em> with those \u201cbailouts\u201d given to the banking industry, a testimony that the citizen has to always doomed to <em>support <\/em>the greed of Capital<a href=\"#_ftn59\" name=\"_ftnref59\">[59]<\/a> and that our landscape is as desolate as those \u201csledges\u201d or amusement park ruins which Santiago Talavera has shaped into timely allegories of what happens to our age.<\/p>\n<p>In <em>The World Without Us<\/em> by Santiago Talavera, animals amble about our residues, like those pigs which stand right next to a \u201chull lost\u201d plane turned into a strange \u201chut.\u201d The <em>catastrophic monologue <\/em>of this artist seeks, desperately, company, though it knows that it\u2019s extremely difficult to establish a fruitful dialogue. \u201cThe experience of the Other\u2014writes Franco \u201cBifo\u201d Berardi\u2014is turned into something uncomfortable and rare, perhaps even painful, since it becomes part of an uninterrupted and frantic stimulus, and loses its singularity, intensity and beauty. The consequence is the reduction of curiosity and the increase of stress, aggressivity, anxiety and fear.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn60\" name=\"_ftnref60\">[60]<\/a> A contradiction of the present has taken place between the degree of social bonds and an increase in the number of social interactions people have, which, with the help of the mass communication media, leads to a \u201csaturated self.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn61\" name=\"_ftnref61\">[61]<\/a> In the year 1903, Georg Simmel said in his meditations on metropolitan life that we are abandoning and finding so many new people, establishing networks of communication so vast that they make it impossible for us to relate to each other emotionally, let alone with all those belonging to our circle of acquaintances. While social networks offer a <em>situational identity<\/em>, we are also getting used to a state of \u201cflexibilisation,\u201d of provisionality, of precarisation. We are constantly throwing \u201cself-promotion\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn62\" name=\"_ftnref62\">[62]<\/a> messages around and we are more sendentarised than subdued to hysteria, stretched out by a \u201ccorporeality\u201d that seems to will-everything:<a href=\"#_ftn63\" name=\"_ftnref63\">[63]<\/a> shut in the bubble of the (in)signifier.<\/p>\n<p>We suffer-and-rejoice in the midsts of calls to indulge in an aesthetic excess which, at the same time, entails a \u201csubjection\u201d and construction of a neoliberal subjectivity.<a href=\"#_ftn64\" name=\"_ftnref64\">[64]<\/a> In the age of digital \u201cglobalisation,\u201d the physical and social proximities are kept increasingly more separate: those who stand socially close to us have no longer need to be physically close and vice versa. Once again we have to recollect the shakespearean dictum, \u201cthe time is out of joint,\u201d and that we have to generate new processes of subjectivation.<a href=\"#_ftn65\" name=\"_ftnref65\">[65]<\/a> Perhaps art has to direct its task towards those emotions or affects that we ignore.<a href=\"#_ftn66\" name=\"_ftnref66\">[66]<\/a> Santiago Talavera, meanwhile, keeps his trust steadfastly on the power of imagination.<a href=\"#_ftn67\" name=\"_ftnref67\">[67]<\/a> The <em>Triebenergie <\/em>(pulsional energy) that emerges \u201cthrough\u201d art can perhaps liberate us from the <em>subordination <\/em>that comes with the flourishing of information technologies and with automatised economy. Emotions or affects appear as a subjective or gestual embodiment that perhaps can intensify itself from a philosophy of \u201cpure affirmation\u201d which would come to posit once again the question of what can a body do.<a href=\"#_ftn68\" name=\"_ftnref68\">[68]<\/a> In his <em>Ethica more geometrico, <\/em>Spinoza pointed out \u201cthat potency entails the power of being affected.\u201d We have to, perhaps, do our best to \u201churry slowly\u201d in the <em>incorporation of art<\/em>, even if it is to give an account of the passage of things that pass. We need\u2014much more than to know what we can\u2014to activate our potentialities before the ultimate collapse takes place, putting an end or fracturing the \u201chypertitional invocation\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn69\" name=\"_ftnref69\">[69]<\/a> which can only doom us to the worst.<\/p>\n<p>Beyond \u201cfuneral rhetoric\u201d we must salvage the <em>right to live<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn70\" name=\"_ftnref70\">[70]<\/a> Santiago Talavera doesn\u2019t wallows in punk\u2019s \u201cno future\u201d ethos, though he knows without a flicker of a doubt that all utopias have been dynamited. His attitude is that of learning from the destructive traces of man<a href=\"#_ftn71\" name=\"_ftnref71\">[71]<\/a> and to keep on painting as if he were thinking-and-living in the <em>katechon <\/em>(the time before the end), in these \u201cinteresting times\u201d of the Antropoceno or, even better, of its collapse. Santiago Talavera imagines, in a certain meaning, the <em>wilderness<\/em> (the world without us) and the dystopia where we have almost disappeared.<a href=\"#_ftn72\" name=\"_ftnref72\">[72]<\/a> The interest for <em>hauntology <\/em>is, in the work of this artist, as much aesthetic as political, it entails a commitment not to allow hope to disappear or, at least, a commitment to keeping some images of the future, even if they are unsettling, drawing (meticulously like an intense experience of time) what has not fulfilled itself <em>yet<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn73\" name=\"_ftnref73\">[73]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Santiago Talavera rewrites G\u00fcnther Anders\u2019s phrase: \u201cWe are only apocalyptic in order to be wrong.\u201d We have a duty to be pessimists or, at least, to avoid that deplorable complicity with the disaster that is termed happycracy. In his works the world is, literally, <em>upside-down<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn74\" name=\"_ftnref74\">[74]<\/a> Spaces of entertainment are, to deploy a term dear to Dean MacCanell, \u201cplaces of empty encounters,\u201d Disneyland reveals its emblematically nihilist condition. <em>Only the images survive <\/em>on the stages without public, across empty stadiums, amusement parks where no one suffers from vertigo, at a time when catastrophe has already happened, placing us, apparently, in a present without future.<a href=\"#_ftn75\" name=\"_ftnref75\">[75]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Ivan L\u00f3pez Munuera pointed out, in a conversation with Santiago Talavera, that it was curious to note, in some of his studio photographs, that a chair was standing in front of a half-finished work, to which the artist responded that <em>the painting had swallowed him<\/em>.<a href=\"#_ftn76\" name=\"_ftnref76\">[76]<\/a> The \u201csurvivor\u201d has secluded himself, perhaps to a hut to think, while at the top of columns we find no longer the prodigious Simon of the Column<a href=\"#_ftn77\" name=\"_ftnref77\">[77]<\/a> but rather a goat which perhaps embodies a kind of mockery of our apocaliptic discourses. Even if, in agreement with Fredric Jameson, it seems that today it would be easier to imagine the total deterioration of the Earth and nature than the demise of capitalism, we have an <em>ethic-and-aesthetic commitment <\/em>to sketch utopias or, at least, to open up cracks in the system, with full awareness of the catastrophe of our collapsed present.<a href=\"#_ftn78\" name=\"_ftnref78\">[78]<\/a> If in the works of Santiago Talavera we contemplate residual objects it is not only in order to seek a morbid-eschatological pleasure; on the contrary, it is a composition of an <em>emerging <\/em>reality,<a href=\"#_ftn79\" name=\"_ftnref79\">[79]<\/a> in an attempt (this will sound ambientally utopian) to make the world better.<a href=\"#_ftn80\" name=\"_ftnref80\">[80]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>&#8212;&#8211;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref1\" name=\"_ftn1\">[1]<\/a> Santiago Talavera interviewed by \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 128.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref2\" name=\"_ftn2\">[2]<\/a> \u201cAmong the key factors for the development of a new form of accelerationism that we find here there\u2019s the collective-pharmaco-socio-sensorial-technologic adventure of <em>rave <\/em>culture and the simultaneous invasion of the home by mediatic technologies (VCRS, videogames, computers) and the popular interest in dystopian cyberpunk sci-fi which includes William Gibson\u2019s <em>Neuromancer <\/em>trilogy and the films <em>Terminator, Predator <\/em>and <em>Blade Runner<\/em> (which have become key \u201ctexts\u201d for these authors)\u201d (Armen Avanessian and Mauro Reis: \u201cIntroducci\u00f3n\u201d [\u201cIntroduction\u201d] in Armen Avanessian and Mauro Reis (comp.): <em>Aceleracionismo. <\/em><em>Estrategias para una transici\u00f3n hacia el postcapitalismo<\/em> [<em>Accelerationism<\/em>. <em>Strategies for a transition towards postcapitalism<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 26).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref3\" name=\"_ftn3\">[3]<\/a> Hartmut Rosa: <em>Alienaci\u00f3n y aceleraci\u00f3n. Hacia una teor\u00eda cr\u00edtica de la temporalidad de la modernidad tard\u00eda <\/em>[<em>Alienation and Acceleration. <\/em><em>Towards a Critical Theory of the Temporality of Late Modernity<\/em>], Ed. Katz, Buenos Aires, 2016, p. 23.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref4\" name=\"_ftn4\">[4]<\/a> \u201cThe window was, of course, a media on its own, dependent on the apparition of the adequate technologies glass lamination. Windows are perhaps one of the most important inventions of visual culture, opening up architecture to new relations between the interior and the exterior, and reshaping the human body, by analogy, in interior and exterior spaces, so that the eyes appear are, as the trope goes, the windows of the soul. The ears are the porches and the mouth is bejeweled with pearled doors. From the lattice of Islamic ornamentation and the stained windows of Medieval Europe, passing through the picture-windows of shops, to the modern shopping mall and the <em>fl\u00e2nerie <\/em>of modernity<em>, <\/em>and the windows of Microsoft\u2019s interface, the window is anything but a transparent entity, obvious and unmediated\u201d (W.J.T. Mitchell: <em>\u00bfQu\u00e9 quieren las im\u00e1genes?<\/em> [<em>What do images want?<\/em>], Ed. Sans Soleil, Vitoria, 2017, p. 271).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref5\" name=\"_ftn5\">[5]<\/a> \u201cThe new culture of hypercapitalism\u2014noted Jeremy Rifkin in the year 2000\u2014where everything in life consists in paying for experiences, which describes the purchase and sale of human experiences [in] theme cities, in the development based on shared interests, in centers dedicated to entertainment, in shopping malls, in global tourism, in fashion, cuisine, sports and professional games, films, television, virtual reality and [other] simulated experiences.\u201d Rifkin warned that while the industrial era fed our physical being, the Age of Access feeds our mental, emotional and spiritual being: \u201cWhile the control over the goods of exchange was what characterised the age that just concluded, the control over the exchange of concepts is what characterises the age to come. In the 21st century, institutions increasingly trade with ideas, and people, in their turn, buy increasingly more into those ideas and into the physical embodiments contained therein\u201d (Jeremy Rifkin: <em>La era del acceso. <\/em><em>La revoluci\u00f3n de la nueva econom\u00eda <\/em>[<em>The Age of Access<\/em>. <em>The Revolution of the New Economy<\/em>], Ed. Paid\u00f3s, Barcelona, 2013, p. 48).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref6\" name=\"_ftn6\">[6]<\/a> \u201cBut, what is \u201cour time\u201d? The world of terrorism post 9\/11 and the world belonging to incipient forms of neofascism, from the Taliban to the New American Empire? Is it the age of postmodernity or the age of a modernity (as argued by the philosopher and anthropologist Bruno Latour) that could have never existed? Is it a time defined by new media and new technology, an age of \u201cbiocybernetic reproducibility\u201d which follows the age of \u201cmechanical reproduction\u201d of Walter Benjamin, the \u201cworld of cables\u201d of Marshall McLuhan, a time that blurs the difference between machine and an organism? Is it this the moment when new objects in the world produce new philosophies such as that of objectivism and the old theories of vitalism and animism seem to be (like fossil formations) adopting new life?\u201d (W.J.T. Mitchell: <em>\u00bfQu\u00e9 quieren las im\u00e1genes?<\/em> [<em>What do the images want?<\/em>], Ed. Sans Soleil, Vitoria, 2017, p. 214).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref7\" name=\"_ftn7\">[7]<\/a> \u201cTalavera is not a run-of-the-mill artist, he\u2019s a plastic activist, a draughtsman of virtuosity, a master painter that we don\u2019t know whether to classify as a new Renaissance painter or a \u201cconceptual baroque artist.\u201d Santiago is, to put it briefly, a visual philosopher, a plastic poet, a romantic\u2026. A clear example of <em>mestizaje<\/em> between creation and social compromise through compositions along the lines to the great masters of the history of art. Santiago presents us with a new <em>Garden of Earthly Delights <\/em>where the viewers lose themselves and become the silent protagonists of his scenes\u201d (Noem\u00ed Mendez: \u201c11 tesis y m\u00e1s de 1001 motivos y el no cuestionamiento ante la obviedad\u201d [11 thesis and more than 1001 motives and the Lack of Inquiries before What\u2019s Obvious,\u201d prologue to \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera, <\/em>Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 10).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref8\" name=\"_ftn8\">[8]<\/a> Stephen Bertman has coined the term \u201cculture of now\u201d and \u201chasty culture\u201d to refer to the lifestyles of our age and society, Cf. <em>Hyperculture. <\/em><em>The Human Cost of Speed<\/em>, Ed. Praeger, London, 1998.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref9\" name=\"_ftn9\">[9]<\/a> \u201c<em>The Sea of Ice <\/em>by David Friedrich influenced me a lot ever since I first saw it as a young kid. That boat sunk behind a heap of stones and ice is us\u2014it\u2019s our failure\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 128).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref10\" name=\"_ftn10\">[10]<\/a> Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 120.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref11\" name=\"_ftn11\">[11]<\/a> \u201cIt\u2019s not only mere curiosity, nor is it iconographic bulimia; his way of looking at things in the world\u2014and at the world itself\u2014presents an aesthetics resembling the love for detail found in Gothic and Flemish painting, where every nook and cranny of the painting tried to capture the attention of the spectator with the same strength\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 60.)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref12\" name=\"_ftn12\">[12]<\/a> Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. <\/em><em>En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the previous life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 20.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref13\" name=\"_ftn13\">[13]<\/a> Michel Maffesoli has analysed what he terms <em>pointillist <\/em>time in his book <em>El instante eterno. <\/em><em>El retorno de lo tr\u00e1gico en las sociedades posmodernas <\/em>[<em>The Eternal Instant<\/em>. <em>The Return of the Tragic in Postmodern Societies<\/em>] (Ed. Paid\u00f3s, Barcelona, 2001), a time which is defined by the proliferation of ruptures and discontinuities. \u201c<em>pointillist<\/em> time is broken, or rather pulverized, into a multitude of <em>\u201ceternal instants\u201d <\/em>\u2014events, incidents, accidents, adventures, episodes\u2014 monads shut into themselves, different bites, and each bite reduced to a point which approaches more and more its geometric ideal of un-dimensionality\u201d (Zygmunt Bauman: <em>Vida de consumo <\/em>[<em>Life of Consumption<\/em>], Ed. Fondo de Cultura Econ\u00f3mica, Madrid, 2016, p. 52).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref14\" name=\"_ftn14\">[14]<\/a> Ross Douthat: \u201cThe Great Consolidation\u201d in <em>New York Times, <\/em>May 16 2010<em>.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref15\" name=\"_ftn15\">[15]<\/a> Franco \u201cBifo Berardi: <em>Fenomenolog\u00eda del fin. <\/em><em>Sensibilidad y mutaci\u00f3n conectiva <\/em>[<em>Phenomenology of the End. Sensibility and Connective Mutation<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 121.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref16\" name=\"_ftn16\">[16]<\/a> \u201cFukuyama himself warned that this radiant neoliberal city couldn\u2019t last the threat of ghosts, though he was mostly thinking about nietzschean rather than marxist ghosts. Some of the most anticipatory pages of Nietzsche are those where he describes \u201cthe oversaturation of history to take place in a certain age,\u201d which would lead it \u201cto direct a dangerous irony towards itself,\u201d as he wrote in <em>Untimely Considerations<\/em>, \u201cand ultimately, most dangerous of all, toward cynicism.\u201d Cynicism, that \u201ccosmopolitan assignment,\u201d which is nothing but an unattached form of spectacularism, replaces the space belonging to involvement and commitment. This is the condition of the Nietzsche\u2019s Superior Man, he who has seen it all but is precisely weakened by this decadent excess of (self)consciousness\u201d (Mark Fisher: <em>Realismo Capitalista<\/em>. <em>\u00bfNo hay alternativa? [Capitalist Realism. Is there no alternative?<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Madrid, 2016, p. 28).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref17\" name=\"_ftn17\">[17]<\/a> \u201cThe work of Santiago Talavera stimulates the clinical possibility of descrying, through impetuous clues, the rhetoric of overlapping layers which leaves us with that forgotten hole of the <em>horror vacui<\/em>\u201d (Marcos Fern\u00e1ndez: \u201cPasaba por aqu\u00ed: notas sobre fragmentos, piezas que recoger y Santiago Talavera\u201d [\u201cI was just passing by: notes on fragments, pieces to pick up and Santiago Talavera\u201d] in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 16.)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref18\" name=\"_ftn18\">[18]<\/a> \u201cWhen I began to use <em>collage <\/em>or <em>papie coll\u00e9 <\/em>I saw that the tactile dimension some drawings took affected in some way its reading; the commentaries and reactions to the images showed me how textures, glows or the thickness of papers and cardboards introduce synesthesia and play\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 118).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref19\" name=\"_ftn19\">[19]<\/a> Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. <\/em><em>En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the previous life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 14.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref20\" name=\"_ftn20\">[20]<\/a> \u201cThe image couldn\u2019t be enough in itself as an enclosed architecture shut in its own beauty. Precisely, the harmony of its transparent maze needed to be broken, running the risk (because there was, indeed, a physical need) of breaking everything\u201d (George Didi-Huberman: <em>Vislumbres <\/em>[<em>Glow<\/em>], Ed. Shangrila, Santander, 2019, p. 265).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref21\" name=\"_ftn21\">[21]<\/a> \u201cAs before a fantastic set for kids, we feel a strange tension. What seems naive hides something dangerous, more uncanny as it is edulcorated\u201d (Galer\u00eda Garc\u00eda: text in <em>Santiago Talavera. <\/em><em>La isla de los voraces <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. The Island of the Voracious<\/em>], Galer\u00eda Soto, Madrid, 2009).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref22\" name=\"_ftn22\">[22]<\/a> \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 86.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref23\" name=\"_ftn23\">[23]<\/a> \u201cThe melancholic look of the painter back at those lost paradises requires drawing to give the spectator the possibility of looking back as well, back to those imaginary cemeteries where we go on throwing whatever we don\u2019t want\u201d (Carlos Rodr\u00edguez Gordo: \u201cReflexiones en torno a la obra de Santiago Talavera\u201d [\u201cConsiderations on the oeuvre of Santiago Talavera\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, La Lisa Arte Contempor\u00e1neo, Albacete, 2010).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref24\" name=\"_ftn24\">[24]<\/a> \u201cThere\u2019s a kind of nostalgy for the future, for being at the same time in a past moment and in one still to come. In a way it\u2019s a nostalgia for an imagined past time, but one which rings very close to home for me\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. <\/em><em>En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the Previous Life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 14.)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref25\" name=\"_ftn25\">[25]<\/a> Franco \u201cBifo\u201d Berardi: <em>Fenomenolog\u00eda del fin. <\/em><em>Sensibilidad y mutaci\u00f3n conectiva<\/em> [<em>Phenomenology of the End. Sensibility and Connective Mutation<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 325.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref26\" name=\"_ftn26\">[26]<\/a> \u201cThe 24\/7 world constantly erodes any distinction between day and night, light and darkness, actions and rest. It\u2019s a zone of insensibility, of amnesia, of that which destroys the possibility of experience. To paraphrase Maurice Blanchot, \u201cas both belonging to the disaster as to the period after disaster, a world characterised by the empty sky, where no star or sign is visible, where one loses one\u2019s way and one\u2019s sense of direction.\u201d It is, specifically, alike a state of emergency, when a conjunction of searchlights lit up suddenly at night, apparently as a response to some extreme circumstance, but actually in the permanent condition of never disconnecting or normalizing themselves\u201d (Jonathan Crary: <em>24\/7. <\/em><em>El capitalismo al asalto del suelto <\/em>[<em>24\/7. Capitalism and the Ends of Sleep<\/em>], Ed. Ariel, Barcelona, 2015, p. 27).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref27\" name=\"_ftn27\">[27]<\/a> \u201cIt shouldn\u2019t surprise anyone that Talavera uses frequently a canted perspectiva. The oblique or militar perspective offers a higher vantage point to the viewer, allowing him or her to hover over the stage. It is, obviously, the result of a kind of <em>strained <\/em>point of view, certainly, but also the effect of a kind of <em>exhaustion<\/em>\u2026.\u201d (\u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 40).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref28\" name=\"_ftn28\">[28]<\/a> Cf. Hito Steyerl: \u201cEn ca\u00edda libre. Una experiencia mental sobre la perspectiva vertical\u201d [\u201cFree Fall. A Mental Experience about Vertical Perspective\u201d in <em>Los condenados de la pantalla <\/em>[<em>The Wretched of the Screen<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2014, p. 15-32.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref29\" name=\"_ftn29\">[29]<\/a> \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 70.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref30\" name=\"_ftn30\">[30]<\/a> \u201cTo my mind the sublime exists, for instance, in Chernobyl, where, thirty years after the nuclear disaster, biodiversity is much more abundant and animals live in harmony without the need of human regulation\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 128).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref31\" name=\"_ftn31\">[31]<\/a> \u201cNo gaze is objective, right? But my first intention is to think the world, to make a portrait in a moment when the relationship between man and nature is more and more reduced to the powers of a brand of capitalism that already announces its final chapters\u201d (Santiago Talavera interview in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 121). \u201cThe relationship between capitalism and eco-disaster is neither coincidence nor accident: the need for a \u201cmarket in constant expansion\u201d and its \u201cfetish with growth\u201d implies that capitalism is opposed to any notion of environmental sustainability\u201d (Mark Fisher: <em>Realismo Capitalista<\/em>. <em>\u00bfNo hay alternativa? [Capitalist Realism. Is there no alternative?<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Madrid, 2016, p. 44).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref32\" name=\"_ftn32\">[32]<\/a> Ferr\u00e1n Barenblit and Cuauht\u00e9moc Medina: \u201cLa est\u00e9tica libre de la est\u00e9tica\u201d [\u201cAesthetics Free From Aesthetics\u201d] in <em>Forensic Architecture. Hacia una est\u00e9tica investigativa<\/em>, MACBA, Barcelona, 2017, p. 22.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref33\" name=\"_ftn33\">[33]<\/a> Eyal Weizman in conversation with Foster et. al. in: <em>Forensic Architecture. Hacia una est\u00e9tica investigativa<\/em>, MACBA, Barcelona, 2017, p. 38.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref34\" name=\"_ftn34\">[34]<\/a> \u201cWhat\u2019s happened to the work of Santiago is that it has acquired a catastrophic nature. The boundless accident, the implacable action of the forces of nature, the prodigious and saturnian technological media of our contemporary world, which once set in motion seem to be out of control&#8230;\u201d(\u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 92). I find certain connections between the aesthetics of Talavera and Paul Virilio\u2019s reflections o accident: \u201c\u201cA characteristic, unique above all the rest, opposes contemporary civilization to those which have preceded it: <em>speed<\/em>. The metamorphosis took place in the lapse of a generation\u201d: such observation was made around the 1930\u2019s by the historian Marc Bloch. This circumstance determines, at the same time a secondary characteristic: <em>the accident<\/em>, progressive generalisation of catastrophic events which not only impacts our current reality, but that are also a source of anxiety and distress about future generations\u201d (Paul Virilio: <em>El accidente original <\/em>[<em>The Original Accident<\/em>], Ed. Amorrortu, Buenos Aires, 2009, p. 13).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref35\" name=\"_ftn35\">[35]<\/a> \u201cWe are a plague and we are proud of the intellectual and technological refinement that we have achieved, while we continue on redesigning social power orders which nowadays still favour white supremacy, the oppression of women and homosexuals, and the daily exploitation of millions of animals for reasons that could be prevented such as traditional habits and conveniences\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 131). \u201cThe idea that our species is a recent apparition upon our planet, that history such as we know it (farm-based, city-based, written-based) is even more recent, and that the industrial organisation of life, based on the intensive use of fossil fuels, began less than a second ago in the long count of <em>Homo Sapiens<\/em>\u2019s evolution clock, and seems to be leading to the conclusion that <em>humanity itself is a catastrophe <\/em>[the italics are mine], a sudden and shattering event in the history of the planet, which will disappear much more rapidly than the changes it has brought into the thermodynamic cycle and the biological balance of the Earth\u201d (D\u00e9borah Danowski and Eduardo Viveiros de Castro: <em>\u00bfHay un mundo por venir? Ensayo sobre los miedos y los fines <\/em>[<em>Is There A World to Come? Essay on the Fears and the Ends<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2019, p. 45).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref36\" name=\"_ftn36\">[36]<\/a> \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 84.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref37\" name=\"_ftn37\">[37]<\/a> Commenting upon the film <em>Children of Men <\/em>by Alfonso Cuar\u00f3n, Mark Fished notes that \u201cthe disaster doesn\u2019t have a punctual moment. The world doesn\u2019t end with a bang: it rather goes on languidly extinguishing itself, dismembering itself gradually, sliding into a slow debacle\u201d (Mark Fisher: <em>Realismo Capitalista<\/em>. <em>\u00bfNo hay alternativa? [Capitalist Realism. Is there no alternative?<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Madrid, 2016, p. 23).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref38\" name=\"_ftn38\">[38]<\/a> \u201cMaybe there is no real outside for us. But we still have a place in the threshold of between inside and outside, between museum and its opposite, and only in that place, looking back to the world as presented and exhibited, and blinking before a nothing where everything is possible, can we recognize ourselves as inhabitants of a world that can\u2019t be exhibited\u201d (Peter Sloterdijk: <em>El imperativo est\u00e9tico <\/em>[<em>The Aesthetic Imperative<\/em>], Ed. Akal, Madrid, 2020, p. 329).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref39\" name=\"_ftn39\">[39]<\/a> As he commenting upon his fascination for a film such as <em>Lost Highway<\/em> by David Lynch, he adds: \u201cFor me it\u2019s the same sensation that I experience when I look at at a junkyard, a place which goes on storing up those objects which have had their use, whichever it was, and find themselves now mixed up, their origin forgotten\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the Previous Life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 15).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref40\" name=\"_ftn40\">[40]<\/a> \u201cIn fact I would say that any landscape is a collective portrait, a great stage that changes at the same pace as our relationship with the world. In the process of <em>Desde el vomitorio <\/em>[<em>From the Vomitorium<\/em>], I understood that it was a mirror of our present and that the socio-historical consciousness, to which we all belong, was the principal driving force that pushing the work forward\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 120).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref41\" name=\"_ftn41\">[41]<\/a> \u201cWe see rotting bodies, concrete, made of flesh and bone, where previously we used to bombastically discourse about the decomposition of the social order of a whole civilization or about its structural disarrangements; in the same way, the splendour of the woods, the growth of vegetation, the proliferating quality of wild nature, treated with our new technical media, becomes more convincing than ever, wrapping itself in a much more oppressive atmosphere\u201d (\u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 94).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref42\" name=\"_ftn42\">[42]<\/a> \u201cThere\u2019s something in the environment which you can\u2019t define. You begin to note a strange nervousness that grows little by little in the stomach. Something strange happens, something bad. Calmness remains, but there\u2019s no longer peace. Suddenly terror prickles one\u2019s senses. It dawns on you that perhaps you are in a narratively coherent dream, a thriller with uncannily abnormal elements, a bitter teenage nightmare capable of holding any kind of monster\u201d (\u00c1ngel M. Alcal\u00e1: \u201cEl arte del conf\u00edn del mundo\u201d in <em>Santiago Talavera, <\/em>La Lisa Arte Contempor\u00e1neo, Albacete, 2010).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref43\" name=\"_ftn43\">[43]<\/a> \u201cThe drawings of Talavera come out in proportions beyond measurement, needing periods of time that have sometimes surpassed a year so as to be created in all their almost maniac detailness; they are beyond scope even before they are framed, they become true deposits of time and memory \u2014both private and collective\u2014, accumulating various private anecdotes from the artist himself and his surroundings\u201d (\u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 46).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref44\" name=\"_ftn44\">[44]<\/a> \u201cIn general, the work with which I feel the most uncomfortable with is that which gives me greater joys: my works on paper. Their composition is very uncomfortable, it\u2019s a very cerebral task, very contained, it requires more hours of work, a slower process. There\u2019s always the anxiety of seeing them finished. Entering the studio, seeing the piece after six months and still unfinished is always tough. Long periods end up collecting a lot of personal themes\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the Previous Life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 23).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref45\" name=\"_ftn45\">[45]<\/a> \u201cDystopies proliferate; and a certain perplexed panic (derogatively termed as \u201ccatastrophism\u201d), when not a somewhat macabre enthusiasm (recently popularised under the name \u201caccelerationism,\u201d seems to ride the spirit of our times. Suddenly, the famous <em>no future <\/em>punk ethos has gained new life\u2014if this is the term suitable to our times\u2014, while profound questions arise, of a dimension comparable to those brought about by the nuclear arms race of the not so distant years of the Cold War. Thus, one can\u2019t help but remember the somber and dry conclusion of G\u00fcnther Anders, in a crucial text about the \u201cmetaphysical metamorphosis\u201d of humanity after Hiroshima and Nagasaki: \u201cThe absence of future already began\u201d\u201d (D\u00e9borah Danowski and Eduardo Viveiros de Castro: <em>\u00bfHay un mundo por venir? Ensayo sobre los miedos y los fines <\/em>[<em>Is There A World to Come? Essay on the fears and the Ends<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2019, p. 26).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref46\" name=\"_ftn46\">[46]<\/a> Javier Gonz\u00e1lez Panizo: <em>Escenograf\u00edas del secreto. Ideolog\u00eda y est\u00e9tica en la escena contempor\u00e1nea <\/em>[<em>Staging of the Secret<\/em>. <em>Ideology and Aesthetic of the Contemporary Scene<\/em>], Ed. Manuscritos, Madrid, 2016, p. 234.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref47\" name=\"_ftn47\">[47]<\/a> \u201cHauntology can be constructed as a failed mourning. It\u2019s about refusing to let the ghost go or \u2014which is the same sometimes\u2014 the refusal of the ghost to abandon us. The spectre won\u2019t allow us to get used to mediocre satisfactions that we can reap in a world governed by capitalist realism\u201d (Mark Fisher: \u201cLa lenta cancelaci\u00f3n del futuro\u201d [\u201cThe Slow Cancellation of the Future\u201d] in <em>Los Fantasmas de mi vida. <\/em><em>Escritos sobre depresi\u00f3n, hauntolog\u00eda y futuros perdidos <\/em>[<em>The Ghosts of my Life. Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Madrid, 2018, p. 49).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref48\" name=\"_ftn48\">[48]<\/a> Cf. Andrew Keen: \u201cFracaso \u00e9pico\u201d [\u201cEpic Fail\u201d] in <em>Internet no es la respuesta<\/em> [<em>Internet is not the answer<\/em>], Ed. Catedral, Barcelona, 2016, p. 259-291.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref49\" name=\"_ftn49\">[49]<\/a> \u201cI\u2019ve always played in bands, I read the world through styles, songs, music histories, and that has crucially shaped my way of understanding the visual arts. Often when I work both in sketches or with drawings, toiling over their madness of layers upon layers, I think about that recorder [a multitrack recorder he was gifted when he was in school] and how I would go on adding and removing tracks until I managed to reach some harmony. It\u2019s a similar process to that\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 125).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref50\" name=\"_ftn50\">[50]<\/a> \u201cIn a painting\u2014warns Santiago Talavera\u2014there\u2019s a moment when I begin to interest myself as much in the human figure as in what affects that figure. In that sense there\u2019s a departure from the character so as to lay the focus on the background. That brings implicitly an interest on the ambiental, that\u2019s where one finds the staging resembling that of David Lynch films, with those red drapes and black-and-white tiled floor, those strange sculptures that touch the spectator in such an emotional and brutal manner. There\u2019s also an interest toward music without voice, ambient music, in an attempt to imagine the soundscape of the spaces these characters inhabit\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the Previous Life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 22).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref51\" name=\"_ftn51\">[51]<\/a> \u201cThat \u201cimpossibility toward nature\u201d has stirred an increasing interest in the social problematics related to the world of ecology and animal rights, and perhaps that\u2019s the reason that my artistic gaze is nowadays more tinged with a \u201cenvironmental ethics,\u201d as one can see in <em>Clausura <\/em>[<em>Closure<\/em>], where the crystal bell jar contains landscapes that seem to be broken\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 137).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref52\" name=\"_ftn52\">[52]<\/a> B\u00f6hme defines atmospheres as spaces, in as much as the presence of things, people or the constellations that surround them, their \u201cecstasis\u201d, \u201ctinge\u201d them: they are spheres of presence themselves, their reality in space. Atmospheres are inherent to the subject, \u201cthey belong to the subject in as much as they are experienced by people in their physical presence, and in as much as, at the same time, this experience is for the subject a physical encounter with space\u201d (Gernot B\u00f6hme: <em>Atmosph\u00e4re. Essays zur neuen \u00c4sthetik,<\/em> Suhrkamp, Frankfurt, 1995, p. 33).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref53\" name=\"_ftn53\">[53]<\/a> The Invisible Committee: <em>Ahora <\/em>[<em>Now<\/em>], Ed. Pepitas de Calabaza, Logro\u00f1o, 2017, p. 147.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref54\" name=\"_ftn54\">[54]<\/a> \u201cThe \u201clie\u201d is right now an extramoral subject, and the lack of truth is the least of problems: also self-deceptions, illusions, strategies thanks to which people \u201cimagine things as they are not\u201d\u2014they all belong to the age of <em>big data<\/em>, that is, the age of web interconnection between all data about people and things, to this category\u201d (Frank Schirrmacher: <em>Ego. <\/em><em>Las trampas del juego capitalista <\/em>[<em>Ego. The Tricks of the Capitalist Game<\/em>], Ed. Ariel, Barcelona, 2014, p. 160).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref55\" name=\"_ftn55\">[55]<\/a> Eli Pariser: <em>El filtro burbuja. C\u00f3mo la red decide lo que leemos y lo que pensamos <\/em>[<em>The Purple Filter<\/em>. <em>How the Web Decides What We Read and What We Think<\/em>], Ed. Taurus, Madrid, 2017, p. 13.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref56\" name=\"_ftn56\">[56]<\/a> \u201cNanocatalysm begins as science fiction. \u201cOur skill to order atoms is the basis of technology,\u201d notes Drexler, \u201cthough this has traditionally meant that we end up manipulating them like a tamed flock.\u201d The precise engineering of atomic assembling would do away with rudimentary methods, beginning the age of molecular machinery, \u201cthe greatest technological leap of History.\u201d Since neither logos nor history has the least chance of surviving said transition, this description is substantially deceptive\u201d (Nick Land: \u201cColapso\u201d [\u201cCollapse\u201d] in Armen Avanessian and Mauro Reis (comps.): <em>Aceleracionismo. <\/em><em>Estrategias para una transici\u00f3n hacia el postcapitalismo <\/em>[<em>Accelerationism<\/em>. <em>Strategies for a Transition toward Postcapitalism<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 56-57).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref57\" name=\"_ftn57\">[57]<\/a> \u201cIn the same way that there were \u201cmanners of cut\u201d in the ages of monarchic regimes, there are forms and \u201cmanners of democracy\u201d bred by the \u201ccommunities of emotion\u201d of fascism, nazism and its diverse variants. From this point of view, the contemporary age, whether we term it neocapitalist or spectacle society, seems to be characterised by what Claudine Haroche defines as a \u201cculture of the lack of attention\u201d: a culture where the old manners (moderation, composure or decorum, everything hat the 18th century called \u201cself-government,\u201d promoted by the bourgeoisie in opposition to the \u201ceffusions\u201d and \u201ctorments\u201d of the people) would be channeled and transformed by strategies of perception tied to the <em>antipathy <\/em>mentioned above. It\u2019s a whole strategy of <em>lack of interest<\/em> which turns the mass of our fellow human beings into a mass of \u201cinsignificant individuals.\u201d The crucial point of all these observations is that there is no contradiction in fact between the two phenomenon, which are, its <em>insensitising<\/em>, its location in a situation of indifference, its vocation toward generalized \u201cantipathy\u201d\u201d (Georges Didi-Huberman: <em>Pueblo en l\u00e1grimas, pueblos en armas<\/em> [<em>People in Tears, Peoples in Arms<\/em>], Ed. Shangrila, Santander, 2017, p. 72-73).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref58\" name=\"_ftn58\">[58]<\/a> In 2015, PornHub, the pornographic website, was visited for more than 4392486580 hours, which is twice and a half the amount of time the <em>Homo sapiens <\/em>has inhabited the Earth.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref59\" name=\"_ftn59\">[59]<\/a> \u201cIt was made clearly evident, once again, that more than representing the end of capitalism, the bailouts of banks became the brutal guarantee of typical insistence of capitalist realism, that is: that there is no alternative\u201d (Mark Fisher: <em>Realismo Capitalista \u00bfNo hay alternativa?<\/em> [<em>Capitalist Realism.<\/em> <em>Is There No Alternative?<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Madrid, 2016, p. 117).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref60\" name=\"_ftn60\">[60]<\/a>\u00a0 Franco \u201cBifo\u201d Berardi: <em>Fenomenolog\u00eda del fin. <\/em><em>Sensibilidad y mutaci\u00f3n conectiva<\/em> [<em>Phenomenology of the End. Sensibility and Connective Mutation<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 204.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref61\" name=\"_ftn61\">[61]<\/a> \u201cNew technologies\u2014notes Kenneth Gergen in <em>El yo saturado <\/em>[<em>The Saturated Self<\/em>] (Ed. Paid\u00f3s, Barcelona, 2006)\u2014make it possible to have relationships\u2014directly or indirectly\u2014with a wider arch of people. In various aspects we are reaching what can be seen as a social saturation. The magnitudes of those changes are rarely self-contained. They keep a power of reverberation through culture, they accumulate PAUSADAMENTE till one day we find ourselves blocked, giving an account of when we have been dislocated, without being able of recovering what we\u2019ve lost [&#8230;]. With the intensified saturation of culture, however, all our previous assumption about identity are at bay and our traditional patterns of relationships become even stranger. A new culture is in the making.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref62\" name=\"_ftn62\">[62]<\/a> \u201cFacebook in itself takes the form under which it calls for people to throw their little self-promoting messages to the wind, before an imagined public standing in rapt attention, where the passing opportunities of genuine exchange of ideas seem to shut up in an instant\u201d (Martha Rosler: \u201cAl servicio de la(s) experiencia(s)\u201d [\u201cAt the service of experiences] in <em>Clase cultural. <\/em><em>Arte y gentrificaci\u00f3n <\/em>[<em>Cultural Class. Art and Gentrification<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 189).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref63\" name=\"_ftn63\">[63]<\/a> In the Freudian <em>Studies on Hysteria <\/em>there are references to the \u201cactive or stenian affects,\u201d an expression coined to refer to the surprising potencies (in relation to the old question about \u201cWhat a body can do?\u201d) characteristic of hysteric mobility. \u201cThe \u201cactive,\u201d or \u201cstenian\u201d affects compensate the access of [psychic] excitation with a mobile discharge. The screams and leaps of joy, the added muscular tone of rage, the vociferations, retaliation, allow for the excitation to discharge itself through certain movements. Moral suffering releases itself from excitation through the breathing efforts and secretions: sobbing and tears. We can confirm everyday that these reactions tend to reduce themselves and pacify excitation\u201d (Gilles Deleuze: <em>Francis Bacon. <\/em><em>Logique de la sensation <\/em>[<em>Francis Bacon. Logic of Sensation<\/em>], Ed de la Diff\u00e9rence, Paris, 1981, p 43).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref64\" name=\"_ftn64\">[64]<\/a> \u201cIn a climate such as this there\u2019s nothing more precious than excess. The further you go, the more materials you\u2019ll come across to accumulate and capitalise upon. Everything is organised in relation to limits, intensities, modulations. As Robin James said, \u201cfor the neoliberal subject, the aim of life is \u201cto go to the edge,\u201d coming closer and closer to the point of decreasing efficiency [&#8230;]. The neoliberal subject has a boundless appetite for more and more new differencies.\u201d The aim is to reach \u201cthe limits of exhaustion\u201d: to follow a line of intensification and, notwithstanding, to be capable of abandoning that frontier, treating it as an inversion and recuperating the intensity as gain. As James stated, \u201cprivileged people live the most intense lives, lives of inversion (individual and social) and max benefits.\u201d This is why transgression doesn\u2019t work anymore as a subversive aesthetic strategy. Or rather, transgression works <em>too well <\/em>as a strategy for the accumulation both of \u201ccultural capital\u201d as well as capital <em>tout court<\/em>\u201d (Steven Shaviro: \u201cEst\u00e9tica aceleracionista: ineficiencia necesaria en tiempos de subsunci\u00f3n real\u201d [\u201cAccelerationist Aesthetics: Necessary Inefficiency in times of Real Subsumption\u201d] in Aremn Avanessian and Mauro Reis (ed.): <em>Aceleracionismo. <\/em><em>Estrategias para una transici\u00f3n al postcapitalismo <\/em>[<em>Accelerationism<\/em>. <em>Strategies for a Transition Toward Postcapitalism<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 175).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref65\" name=\"_ftn65\">[65]<\/a> \u201cThe time is out-of-joint,\u201d wrote Gregory Bateson, quoting Hamlet. Out-of-joint, dislocated. The increasing connectivity and the subjection of our cognitive activities to the management of digital machines has brought about a disadjustment between the mutated rhythm of the connected mind and the rhythm of the corporeal mind. As a consequence, the <em>general intellect <\/em>has separated itself from the body. The problem here is not the subject as a static and given reality. The problem is subjectivation, the process whereby consciousness and self-reflection emerges, without considering it in an isolated manner, but rather in the context of its technological environment and its social conflicts. The subjectivation must be also understood as morphogenesis, as the creation of forms\u201d (Franco \u201cBifo\u201d Berardi: <em>Fenomenolog\u00eda del fin. Sensibilidad y mutaci\u00f3n conectiva<\/em> [<em>Phenomenology of the End. Sensibility and Connective Mutation<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2017, p. 251).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref66\" name=\"_ftn66\">[66]<\/a> It isn\u2019t incidental that the epigraph of Vygotski for his <em>Psychology of Art <\/em>belonged to a great text by Spinoza on emotions, which asked the question, \u201cwhat can a body do,\u201d precisely because \u201cno one today has determined it\u201d (Lev Vygotski: <em>Psychologie de l\u2019art<\/em>, Ed. La Dispute, Paris, 2005, p. 13).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref67\" name=\"_ftn67\">[67]<\/a> \u201cWhat led me to keep on talking about landscape is its oneiric component, its direct ties to the imagination. William Blake, for whom this subject was of the first importance, wrote: \u201cto green-eyed imagination nature is imagination itself\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 119).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref68\" name=\"_ftn68\">[68]<\/a> \u201cNow, this fundamental \u201caffirmation\u201d is certainly destined to appear as gestures in the expression. Thus the question posited by Deleuze on the chapters of the <em>Ethics <\/em>dedicated to the effects of emotions: \u201cWhat can a body do?\u201d A way of saying that the expression is <em>potent because it\u2019s active<\/em>, as long as the sequence is constructed to make us move from <em>suffering <\/em>to <em>imagining<\/em> (the \u201cimage is the idea of affection,\u201d summarizes Deleuze, even if it makes us \u201conly think the object by its affect\u201d), from imagining to <em>thinking <\/em>(following the game of \u201ccommon notions\u201d and the \u201cfree harmony of the imagination with the reason\u201d), and, finally, from thinking to <em>acting<\/em>; that\u2019s what Deleuze terms the \u201cactive-becoming\u201d which is intrinsic to all expression\u201d (Georges Didi-Huberman: <em>Pueblos en l\u00e1grimas, pueblos en armas<\/em>, Ed. Shangrila, Santander, 2017, p. 37).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref69\" name=\"_ftn69\">[69]<\/a> \u201cHypertition [writes Nick Land] is a circuit of positive feedback that includes culture as a component. It can be defined as the experimental (techno)-science of self-fulfilling prophecies (\u201cHypertition. An Introduction\u201d in merliquify.com).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref70\" name=\"_ftn70\">[70]<\/a> \u201cEven in the mouths of those suspect of being the undertakers of the the whole future, even there remains a symbol of the most fundamental human right, the symbol of the right to life, in a present bearable because such present can still have hopes that, with regards to the future, there is no reason to lose all hope\u201d (Peter Sloterdijk: <em>El imperativo est\u00e9tico <\/em>[<em>The Aesthetic Imperative<\/em>], Ed. Akal, Madrid, 2020, p. 376).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref71\" name=\"_ftn71\">[71]<\/a> \u201cIt\u2019s all been an excuse to speak about ourselves through our trace. Bonaventura Puig and Perucho used to say: \u201c&#8230; there\u2019s hardly any truly primeval landscape but as backdrop for human action,\u201d and in my works it can be understood in the same manner, it could even serve as an example to understand that landscape as an aesthetic element doesn\u2019t exist without the human animal\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 132).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref72\" name=\"_ftn72\">[72]<\/a> This is something that has been discussed by D\u00e9borah Danowski and Eduardo Bibeiros de Castro in <em>\u00bfHay un mundo por venir? Ensayo sobre los miedos y los fines <\/em>[<em>Is There A World to Come? Essay on the Fears and the Ends<\/em>] (Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2019, p. 57-63), a book that, as Santiago Talavera confesses, has influenced him greatly.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref73\" name=\"_ftn73\">[73]<\/a> \u201cWhat should overtake us is not the <em>no more <\/em>of social-democracy as it existed, but the <em>not yet <\/em>of that popular modernism prepared us to wait for but which never materialized themselves. Those specters\u2014the specters of lost futures\u2014question the formal nostalgia of the world of capitalist realism (Mark Fisher: \u201cLa lenta cancelaci\u00f3n del futuro\u201d [\u201cThe Slow Cancellation of the Future\u201d] in <em>Los fantasmas de mi vida. <\/em><em>Escritos sobre depresi\u00f3n, hauntolog\u00eda y futuros perdidos <\/em>[<em>The Ghosts of My Life. Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures<\/em>], Ed. Caja Negra, Buenos Aires, 2018, p. 55).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref74\" name=\"_ftn74\">[74]<\/a> \u201cIn the paintings and drawings of Santiago Talavera our world appears represented upside-down. Reason hasn\u2019t been able to support as much as it constructed and now it\u2019s only capable of showing its absolute failure. There\u2019s nobody left, only the trace that remains after the perfect catastrophe, which can show us the structures, the ruined intentions, the impossibility of what could have been the paradise that the old rational plans wanted to erect\u201d (Rafael Doctor: \u201cLas aperturas que se vienen\u201d [\u201cThe incoming Openings\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the Previous Life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 9).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref75\" name=\"_ftn75\">[75]<\/a> \u201cThe revolution already happened\u2026 the events which we have to deal with are not in the future but to a large extent in the past [&#8230;] whatever we do, the threat will remain with us for centuries or millennia\u201d (Bruno Latour: <em>Face \u00e0 Ga\u00efa. Huit conf\u00e9rences sur le nouveau r\u00e9gime climatique <\/em>[<em>Facing Gaia. Eight Conferences about the New Climatic Regime<\/em>], Paris, La D\u00e9couverte, 2015).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref76\" name=\"_ftn76\">[76]<\/a> \u201cThe painting has swallowed me up. I love this photograph by Ilya Kabakov which shows an empty chair in front of an enormous drawing that is also empty, as if it had swallowed it\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed by Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3peza Munuera: \u201cEn este peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba\u201d [\u201cIn this Small Place There is A Great Trial\u201d] in <em>Santiago Talavera. En la vida anterior <\/em>[<em>Santiago Talavera. In the Previous Life<\/em>], Centre Municipal d\u2019Elx, 2011, p. 20).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref77\" name=\"_ftn77\">[77]<\/a> \u201cSimeon the Stylite (son of a shepherd, Syria and Cilicia: South-East of Anatolia: 390-459). Furor of ascesis by self-interrogation: he buries himself in a garden, in a hole up to his head, the summer long: forty days in a cave without light (the monastery tries to get rid of him). He immures himself, cements his door: forty days without nourishment. In 423, near Antioch he installs himself on a pillar [<em>stylos: <\/em>the column], first somewhat low, increasingly elevated; in 430: forty elbows (=twenty meters). He builds himself a balustrade (and instigates the emperor against the Jews). It\u2019s a kind of sportive <em>performance<\/em> of ascesis: a proof of reclusion like a jump with a vaulting pole. Institution of cenobitism: limiting such excesses, by way of the benedictine virtue par excellence: the <em>discretio<\/em>. Cf. Dostoievski, in <em>Devils<\/em>, speaks of Elisabeth, mad for Christ: has been living in a kind of cage for the last 16 years, without talking to anyone, neither cleaning herself nor combing her hair (Roland Barthes: <em>C\u00f3mo vivir juntos. <\/em><em>Notas de Cursos y Seminarios en el College de France, 1976-1977<\/em> [<em>How to Live Together. <\/em><em>Notes for Courses and Seminars at the College de France, 1976-1977<\/em>], Ed. Siglo XXI, Buenos Aires, 2003, p. 110-11).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref78\" name=\"_ftn78\">[78]<\/a> \u201cThe long and black night of the end of History must be taken as a superb chance. The oppressive generality of capitalist realism means that even the most untenable political and economic alternatives store immense potential. The most subtle of events is capable of opening an enormous hole in the grey and reactionary curtain that has covered the horizon of possibilities beyond capitalist realism. From a situation in which nothing could ever change, everything appears as possible once again\u201d (Mark Fisher: <em>Realismo capitalista. <\/em><em>\u00bfNo Hay alternativa?<\/em>, Ed. Caja Negra, Madrid, 2016, p. 120-121).<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref79\" name=\"_ftn79\">[79]<\/a> Fredric Jameson, in his text \u201cThe Utopia as Replication\u201d (included in <em>Valencias de la dial\u00e9ctica <\/em>[<em>Valences of Dialectics<\/em>], Ed. Eterna Cadencia, Buenos Aires, 2013), picks up again on the distinction made by Raymond Williams between emergence and residual: \u201cthe forms of an utopian future threatened across the fog, an utopian future that we must grappled with like an opportunity to exercise fully our utopian imagination, rather than a chance to make moralizing judgements or to practise a regressive style of nostalgia.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref80\" name=\"_ftn80\">[80]<\/a> \u201cAs always I want to channel the powers at war, as always, to make things better. If it isn\u2019t to make the world better, art would be of no use\u201d (Santiago Talavera interviewed in \u00d3scar Alonso Molina: <em>Santiago Talavera<\/em>, Ed. Nocapaper Books, Santander, 2016, p. 137).<\/span>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-oscar-alonso-molinathe-poetics-of-santiago-talavera-in-eleven-thesessantiago-talavera-pocket-series-4-nocapaper-books-moresantander-2015-890\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>Details: The minuscule warns (itself)<\/h2>\n<h4>The Poetics of Santiago Talavera in eleven theses.<\/h4>\n<p>But how can these scenarios raised by Talavera, so confusing and complex, so forced and <em>difficult<\/em>, avoid verbosity or simply the absurd, the disastrous and a deafening finale? How do they manage not to become a platform for unceasing and mere chance encounters between the dissimilar and the multiple, things abandoned in the margins of the world of production, the overabundance of genres, objects, things and parts of things? His images are a true grinder\/blender where both the new and the old are recycled to compose scenarios of dislocated utopias that start from our happy and ignorant reality as the First World. This curious pantheism that includes \u2013 or rather implies, with infinite patience, possibly not exempt from piety \u2013 the whole arch of goods and waste, provides them with a new opportunity not so much in their new and original combinations as in the possibility to be looked at again with care.<\/p>\n<p>Looking at the world in detail is exactly what we see Santiago doing. It is not just curiosity or iconographic bulimia; what his way of looking at things in the world \u2013 and at the world itself \u2013 postulates, is close to that love for detail in Gothic and Flemish painting, where each point on the picture aimed at catching the viewer\u2019s attention with the same force. The little flower in a corner is no less important, in detail and attention, than the eyes of Jesus that take up the geometric centre of the same picture; in the same way as the birds gliding on the horizon, hardly visible if you, dear reader, take a few steps back from the surface painted over five centuries ago now, are dealt with in the same delicacy as the bound hands or drops of blood sliding down the face of the Ecce Homo. This is complete holism, which five centuries later abstractly conquered <em>all over<\/em> painting.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBehold the man\u201d&#8230;, yes, except for the fact that the man is not there, as I will explain below. Mankind is present <em>in absentia<\/em>: in his belongings, in his tireless capacity to produce and fill the world with liveable spaces, thingu- majigs, the way he takes up the landscape or colonizes virgin territories &#8230; Santiago Talavera\u2019s work is concerned with all of this, he deals with the little accidents that happen along the way just as a notary would, the same as the huge amount of traces we leave behind us while we achieve things. And he does so with a blend of delicacy in the pictorial or drawing treatment, and an implacable, unbribeable and critical lucidity in the moral treatment, coming close in his combination to what his admired Bosco and Brueghel attained. He seems to have learnt precisely from old masters like these the value of the close gaze over the vast extension of the visible world \u2013 the macro and the micro<a href=\"#_ftn1\" name=\"_ftnref1\">[1]<\/a> \u2013 which leads him to touch individualized things in their moral essence, to the extent that he composes his work based on the meticulous tissue of a myriad of minute details that grab the attention of the eye &#8211; <em>warnings<\/em>!<\/p>\n<p>&#8212;&#8211;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: small;\"><a href=\"#_ftnref1\" name=\"_ftn1\">[1]<\/a> \u201cObserve the form well, both the small one and the large one; but separate the paltry from the whole\u201d, is one of Caspar David Friedrich\u2019s famous maxims.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u00d3scar Alonso Molina, 2015<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Copyright: Publisher\u00a0NOCAPAPER BOOKS &amp; MORE<\/p>\n<p><a class=\"anchorLink\" href=\"https:\/\/santiagotalavera.com\/publicacion\/santiago-talavera-pocket-series-004\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">M\u00e1s informaci\u00f3n sobre el libro<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-carlos-delgado-mayordomosantiago-talaveraone-project-artmadridmadrid-2015-514\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>Santiago Talavera<\/h2>\n<h4>Text for &#8220;One Project&#8221;, ArtMadrid 2015. Carlos Delgado Mayordomo<\/h4>\n<p>To paint like a draftsman and draw like a painter. Through this certainty, stated by Santiago Talavera in various writings and interviews, we can begin to understand the complex process of a work that comprehends the construction of the image from a refined presentation of form. Density and lightness, analysis and precision as strategies to thematize the strangeness of a futurible universe, where geographical and temporal concreteness has been abolished to construct a new map whose main narrative is the tension between man and nature.<\/p>\n<p>Against the belief of the Rousseauian ideal that maintains the conviction that man is good by nature and that only civilization corrupts him, Santiago Talavera emphasizes what it means to inhabit a reality created by man and based on the hegemony of rationalism. Between the essential fixity of being and the changing becoming of the sensible, geometry emerges as a strategy to rationalize the abstract vision of nature, space, and its forms. In Santiago Talavera&#8217;s drawings, this artificial and measurable resource appears as a ruin abandoned in the middle of the path. These imposing dodecahedrons lie next to dead animals, an association that leads us, firstly, to reflect on the impact of civilization on nature and the unknowns that the future holds regarding the coexistence between people and animals. But both elements, nature and geometry, share the same status of vulnerability as they are configured as traces of the same &#8220;crime scene.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Drawing, as Gombrich has pointed out, resembles reality, although reality never resembles drawing. And it is from the awareness of this autonomy that Santiago Talavera assumes a suggestive play of scales, displacements, and narrative inventions. This happens in the monumental work \u201cAnthropocosmos,\u201d whose starting point is a photograph the artist took of an ancient amphitheater and whose result is an absolutely enigmatic image where the real figures invention and vice versa. In some way, the artist constructs with all realism that which is hidden but flows like a constant rumor in our becoming. An uninhabited, abysmal, idyllic, and disturbing space at the same time, and one that responds to a perfectly delineated plan by the artist. The strategy that organizes the drawing, the meticulous planning that goes from the selection of paper to the search for those chromatic tones that give a strange carnality to the form, all obeys the firm desire to bring forth the image of an unlived time. In this sense, Santiago Talavera consolidates with each exhibition as one of the most fascinating, powerful, and subtle creators of his generation.<\/p>\n<p>Carlos Delgado Mayordomo. One Project. Art Madrid, 2015<\/p>\n<p><a class=\"anchorLink\" href=\"https:\/\/www.santiagotalavera.com\/textos\/ONE_PROJECT_Santiago_Talavera.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Download text (spanish)<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-david-barrosantiago-talavera2014-antes-de-irse-40-ideas-sobre-pintura-dardo-editionsa-coruna-2013-42\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>Santiago Talavera en 2014\/ antes de irse. 40 ideas sobre pintura<\/h2>\n<h4>Book &#8220;2014\/ antes de irse. 40 ideas sobre pintura&#8221;. David Barro, Dardo Editions<\/h4>\n<p>Santiago Talavera&#8217;s work is an insistent painting that is born out of a minimal argument, decomposing small everyday events until forming a chaotic, absurd and enigmatic surrounding. The fantastic and the critical form a place of conflict, although this is delicate, with some pastel chromatic ranges and a delicate approach befitting an undeniable pictorial virtuosity. Everything in his painting is abysmal and over-saturated. Objects, figures and situations form stories in which accumulation comes together in a nostalgic and unusual present, as if the future was found in the past. Deep down, what is revealed is the post-modern condition of disintegration of referents and the loss of organic time, like in that impossibility of history felt by the characters in Blade Runner. In the case of Santiago Talavera it is an absence that takes on the form of a catastrophe when in works like From the vomitorium, the human disappears and there is only the remains of the shipwrecking. As pointed out by Rafael Doctor, &#8220;whether it is a landscape, an interior or an event, everything is told in a same absorbed and contained moment from which, as human beings, we are excluded&#8221;. In Santiago Talavera&#8217;s works time is not representable, and the games of scale do not allow us to move within this outsize state, where everything overflows and the spectator has access to the image until entering it, like that scene in which Deckard, in Blade Runner, uses a machine to get into a photograph, making this view a three-dimensional experience. Santiago Talavera has stated his attraction for this idea in which the small may hide the greater proof and actually literally translates this by moving his studio to the New Gallery space for his last exhibition.<\/p>\n<p>Without doubt, one of Santiago Talavera&#8217;s greatest achievements is that of mantaining a certain distance in relation to landscape. While being a miniaturist, he adds objects and colours until he generates a new, unique, psychological and enigmatic, reflective and absurd atmosphere. The cryptic aspect of his titles, taken fron songs or films, also do not lead towards a concrete meaning, albeit doing so by opening up ideas for research. Because it is a matter of imagining, as the artist beforehand thinks of speaking of great things on a small scale. A universe that is seen and is controlled, or, if we follow Baudrillard, a series of fragments of a hologram in which each splinter contains the whole universe. So each thought becomes a fragmented story, although with different words and colours. We are talking of an infinite repetition, about a continued nightmare in which each chapter shows us the whole, with stagings for us to reflect about man, his achievements and disgraces. Like in classic artists like El Bosco, the details reinforce the subject, granting space to different metaphors and possibilities for capturing and presenting the condition and destiny of humanity.<\/p>\n<p>It is a matter of granting poetry to the rest, the catastrophic. Sometimes through drawing and other times through the density of the painting. Santiago Talavera himself says that he enjoys painting as a draughtsman and drawing as a painter. In both cases the process is slow and dull, leading to the paradox that a painting may be a sketch for a drawing and not the contrary. In any case, the clarity of the result and the lack of human figures show the effect of a faltification, detracting from the narrative logics to produce a world in which the idyllic and the tragic call up the accidental, that which is about to suddenly take place but we never see, just like in the strange and disturbing atmospheres shown by David Lynch, a sort of Apocalypse without Apocalypse. Indeed, Santiago Talavera&#8217;s works take on the same sensation that Claudio Magris describes when passing through Central Europe at The Danube: a possible boisterous future of survivors of some catastrophe.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>David Barro<\/p>\n<p><a class=\"anchorLink\" href=\"http:\/\/www.santiagotalavera.com\/textos\/david_barro_eng.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Download text<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-tania-pardosomething-is-hidden-thereall-the-things-i-carry-with-me-la-new-gallerymadrid-2013-277\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>Something is hidden there<\/h2>\n<h4>Exhibition &#8220;All the Things I Carry With Me&#8221;. Tania Pardo<\/h4>\n<p>In a catharsis of generosity, Santiago Talavera moves his studio to the gallery space in this exhibition whose title, Omnia Mea Mecum Porto (All The Things I Carry With Me) is a quote from Cicero. The spectator gets into the artwork in a literal way, and observes the work in the natural environment where it has been created. The artist rebels himself against the aseptic white cube dictatorship and generates a new experience in which the visitor becomes a part of the slow, progressive working process. The workshop, a space of intimate creation, appears covered in magazines, clippings, books and paint, which are the materials involved in the creation of new pieces. It is a trial-and-error space, an experimental laboratory that becomes accessible to the public. There, we witness his obsession with accumulation and his ability to generate scenes inside other scenes, following an innovative reading of the paranoiaccritical method and struggling to re-elaborate the bidimensionality of the image in a three-dimensional space; we must not forget that we are now inside a studio.<\/p>\n<p>The exhibition defines itself as an extension of the place from which everything emanates. It is<br \/>\na question that has concerned Talavera for years, because his workspace is at the same time a<br \/>\nprolongation of his own works, in which the scenes arise without a previously arranged plan: strange and suggestive compositions whose virtuosity and technical mastery evoke the great masters of painting, and pictures that look like a space where something is about to happen, or has already happened. Actually, there is a sort of fierce visual bulimia that makes him generate infinite images crammed with objects, and shows his obsession with excess and accumulation. For example, his landscapes composed by layers, added elements and repetitions which link apparently unconnected iconographies through an oneiric baroque sensibility whose Boschian meticulousness, in reality, hides a paradoxical meditation about the idea of contained landscape.<\/p>\n<p>For the artist, painting, drawing or collage are a means to reconstruct the space and explore the<br \/>\npossibilities of optical illusion. Reality is the starting point for the reconstruction of a language in which the idea of time as an imperturbable measuring system features most of these images. His work is a construction of visual and poetic metaphors that deal with the present time through apparently chaotic landscapes. These scenes are at their boiling point, and we can perceive an imminent change that culminates in this exhibition, where we have the chance to discover hidden corners and unnoticed details.<\/p>\n<p>By moving his studio to the gallery, Santiago Talavera tries to dispossess himself from the material<br \/>\ndimension in an outburst of radical sincerity, in order to show all things involved in his creative process and also in the environment where it takes place. He aims to empty his studio in order to start working from zero; to contemplate the studio itself as a landscape, and to make us accomplices of all the things he carries with him.<\/p>\n<p>Tania Pardo, 2013<\/p>\n<p><a class=\"anchorLink\" href=\"https:\/\/www.santiagotalavera.com\/textos\/tania_pardo_eng.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Download text<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-ivan-lopez-munueraen-ese-pequeno-lugar-hay-una-gran-pruebaen-la-vida-anterior-centre-dexposicions-delxalicante-2011-45\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>En ese peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba<\/h2>\n<h4>Entrevista con Santiago Talavera. Por Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3pez Munuera.<\/h4>\n<p>En las obras de Santiago Talavera (Albacete, 1979) siempre hay un gusto por la abundancia de objetos, figuras, situaciones y atm\u00f3sferas que pueden recordar al s\u00edndrome de Di\u00f3genes, ese desorden del comportamiento en el que sus afectados se distinguen por la acumulaci\u00f3n compulsiva de objetos en sus domicilios. Espacios rebosantes que traspasan la cualidad visual de sus im\u00e1genes para extenderse hacia atm\u00f3sferas que sugieren una ordenaci\u00f3n temporal diferente. Lugares marcados por la asincron\u00eda o, m\u00e1s bien, por la simultaneidad de categor\u00edas cronol\u00f3gicas resumidas mediante una sola imagen, ca\u00f3tica y porosa, inestable y envolvente. Todo al mismo tiempo en un mismo lugar. Indirectamente, las viviendas y la situaci\u00f3n de los aquejados por este trastorno quiebran el r\u00e9gimen temporal hegem\u00f3nico en occidente, cimentado -como ya apuntara George Kubler en 1962<a href=\"#_ftn1\" name=\"_ftnref1\">[1]<\/a>&#8211; en el tiempo biol\u00f3gico (que marca nuestra trayectoria vital) y en el cronol\u00f3gico (establecido a partir del paso de las agujas del reloj<a href=\"#_ftn2\" name=\"_ftnref2\">[2]<\/a>), para dar lugar a multitud de perspectivas, todas factibles y v\u00e1lidas, aunque imposibles de fijar. Este aspecto de sus obras se percibe tambi\u00e9n en su estudio, un antiguo garaje compartido con otros artistas, donde diferentes piezas, terminadas o en curso, se mezclan con reproducciones de otras que le interesan, novelas que lee o relee, ensayos, m\u00fasicas ambientales, fotograf\u00edas de distintos medios de comunicaci\u00f3n e instrumentos de trabajo. Hablar de estas atm\u00f3sferas es un buen punto de partida para una entrevista sobre su producci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Hay un aspecto que me resulta muy sugerente y muy llamativo en muchas de tus obras, y es el despliegue en un paisaje de cierta simultaneidad de situaciones e im\u00e1genes que parecen fogonazos de distintos momentos y lugares reunidos en un mismo escenario. Obras como \u201cDesde el vomitorio\u201d (2011), \u201cCore\u201d (2009), \u201cLa isla de los voraces\u201d (2008) o \u201cD\u00f3nde vivir y para qu\u00e9\u201d (2010) ilustran un mundo estratificado, sin jerarqu\u00edas cronol\u00f3gicas o de situaci\u00f3n que apuntan a una atm\u00f3sfera un tanto enloquecida, un tanto enso\u00f1adora en la que ciertas convenciones, como las geogr\u00e1ficas o las temporales han sido abolidas. \u00bfPodr\u00edas hablarme de estas consideraciones?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>El enfoque de estas obras, aunque suene muy ingenuo, no parte de ninguna idea preestablecida. El resultado es algo bastante org\u00e1nico. Surge de una multiplicidad de reflexiones y de una voluntad de a\u00f1adir de manera continua. Vivimos en un mundo de replicas de replicas, en un contexto multirreferencial y vertiginoso que tiende a la acumulaci\u00f3n. Creo que esta visi\u00f3n la produce una incertidumbre extra\u00edda de preguntas muy b\u00e1sicas: qu\u00e9 hay despu\u00e9s de esto, m\u00e1s bien, que hay detr\u00e1s de estas im\u00e1genes y de esa sobreproducci\u00f3n. Y estas cuestiones las replanteo desde un enfoque est\u00e9tico. Esa simultaneidad que comentas me interesa mucho y siempre la percibo al ver c\u00f3mo avanza la obra. Sobre todo al ver las piezas terminadas. Hay una especie de nostalgia de futuro, de estar al mismo tiempo en un momento pasado y en uno por venir. De alg\u00fan modo es una nostalgia de un tiempo pasado imaginado, pero que para m\u00ed es muy cercano.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Melanc\u00f3lico tal vez, es decir, melancol\u00eda definida como nostalgia de un tiempo no vivido, deseado o desafiante.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>S\u00ed. Me doy cuenta de que esa visi\u00f3n nost\u00e1lgica est\u00e1 en m\u00ed a trav\u00e9s de im\u00e1genes del futuro, de escenarios de ciencia ficci\u00f3n que me son tan cercanos como cualquier otra realidad. Son tambi\u00e9n intereses muy vagos en cuestiones de f\u00edsica cu\u00e1ntica, en preceptos o creencias de que podamos estar en varios sitios a la vez en un mismo momento. Eso es algo que me fascina.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Es una visi\u00f3n muy cinematogr\u00e1fica, sobre todo de ciertas pel\u00edculas de David Lynch, un autor que te interesa especialmente. Me refiero a films como \u201cCarretera perdida\u201d (Lost Highway, 1997) donde el presente y el futuro se mezclan de manera continua, aturdiendo a unos personajes que acaban por invocar ciertas situaciones (incluidas las m\u00e1s extremas, como el asesinatos) al estar sumergidos en un estado de confusi\u00f3n casi narc\u00f3tico. <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Desde luego. Para m\u00ed es la misma sensaci\u00f3n que la de contemplar un vertedero, un lugar donde se van quedando los restos de los restos, objetos que han tenido un uso, el que sea, y que quedan de repente mezclados, olvidando su origen. O como mirar todo desde un retrovisor, vas en el coche y miras todo lo que ha quedado atr\u00e1s. La sensaci\u00f3n es de una gran velocidad. Todo se va sucediendo: pel\u00edculas, fotograf\u00edas de pel\u00edculas, lecturas sobre pel\u00edculas\u2026 sensaciones contrapuestas que se van almacenando y van pasando.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Por seguir con las referencias cinematogr\u00e1ficas y con otra de tus obsesiones, Andrei Tarkovsky, elaboras una serie de ficciones muy ligadas al contexto que las rodea, al mundo que las envuelve, donde no se sabe muy bien cu\u00e1l es el argumento, pero donde parece que ha ocurrido algo o que algo est\u00e1 a punto de pasar y que, por decirlo de una manera un poco directa, nos lo hemos perdido. Es decir, que algo terrible ha podido suceder y sin embargo la c\u00e1mara se detiene en cierto goce est\u00e9tico, como si ciertos escenarios en apariencia id\u00edlicos pudiesen invocar las acciones m\u00e1s dram\u00e1ticas, algo que se ve en la sucesi\u00f3n de im\u00e1genes, de fotogramas, que componen \u201cLa vida anterior\u201d (2011).<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Exacto. A m\u00ed me gusta mucho trabajar de una manera no consciente con las barbaridades bonitas, como en el \u201cTsunami rosa\u201d (2006), por ejemplo. Podr\u00eda parecer perverso por la situaci\u00f3n, un momento de muerte y destrucci\u00f3n avanza hacia una poblaci\u00f3n. Pero es tan hermoso\u2026 una enorme ola te\u00f1ida de rosa. Es una imagen bestial que vemos de manera continua en los medios de comunicaci\u00f3n, impactos que nos repelen pero que son tan atractivos al mismo tiempo. Nosotros mismos vamos buscando esas escenas. M\u00e1s que una intenci\u00f3n por buscar lo s\u00f3rdido dir\u00eda que es algo inevitable. Algo que lleva a sospechar sobre la imagen. Y esto tiene que ver con el paisaje en s\u00ed. Me obsesiona esa frase de \u00d3scar Wilde de que la vida imita al arte m\u00e1s que el arte a la vida. Desde esa percepci\u00f3n nos damos cuenta de que el impacto que tiene el arte sobre la concepci\u00f3n de lo natural o del medio en el que nos movemos es tan fuerte que nos resulta imposible pensar en una mirada neutra, as\u00e9ptica, sin contenidos previos.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Es decir, que no hay un ah\u00ed fuera que es contemplado u observado, sino que est\u00e1 conectado con otras visiones y percepciones m\u00e1s elaboradas. Algo que se encuentra en lecturas que citas como las de Thoreau y su visi\u00f3n de la naturaleza o en Hiroshige y sus construcciones del paisaje. <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>En todo paisaje hay un distanciamiento, hay una sospecha, te mojas, imaginas. Todo paisajista es una persona que no deja de mirar desde una ventana y esa posici\u00f3n es muy sospechosa. \u00bfHacia d\u00f3nde mira y desde d\u00f3nde? Es un trabajo complejo construido por m\u00faltiples factores.<\/p>\n<p><strong>\u00bfY c\u00f3mo abordas esas construcciones de subjetividad?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Mi enfoque es muy pl\u00e1stico y muy de experimentar, de prueba y ensayo. Tomo lo natural como un inmenso campo de pruebas. Por ejemplo, lo que comentabas antes de Hiroshige, alguien que me fascina, me resulta muy sugerente. Pienso en las 36 visiones que hace del Monte Fuji y c\u00f3mo consigue iconizar tanto un elemento del paisaje, una monta\u00f1a, que se convierte de pronto en algo casi\u00a0 comestible. Ese juego con las formas y los colores para llegar a generar otras cosas dentro de un paisaje me obsesiona. Ah\u00ed entra de nuevo la voracidad y lo comestible. Hay una voluntad de aprehender algo tan inmenso como la naturaleza para convertirlo en algo bidimensional y para reelaborar todos sus elementos en un concepto lo m\u00e1s pl\u00e1stico posible. Esa ansiedad de a\u00f1adir objetos, de pegarlos, de ver sus diferentes posibilidades y convertirlos en c\u00famulos que no tienen nada que ver entre s\u00ed\u2026 tengo esa necesidad de reelaborar, tengo que verlo.<\/p>\n<p><strong>En este juego participan de una manera fundamental los t\u00edtulos que escoges: evocadores, cr\u00edpticos, insinuantes. Hemos hablado de algunos ellos pero habr\u00eda m\u00e1s, como \u201cDel sentimiento de no estar del todo\u201d (2010), \u201cCeremonia disimulada\u201d (2008) o \u201cLa guarida de los amos ocultos III\u201d (2009). \u00bfC\u00f3mo surgen estos t\u00edtulos?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Suelo escogerlos de la misma manera voraz en la que aparecen las diferentes partes en la obra: de manera acumulativa, hasta un momento en que dejo la pieza, la abandono y decido el nombre. Suelen ser caprichosos: letras de canciones, t\u00edtulos de libros, di\u00e1logos de pel\u00edculas, relaciones continuas que me atrapan. Procuro que sea algo que produzca un caleidoscopio de lecturas. No pretendo que sean anal\u00edticos ni determinantes, pero s\u00ed influyentes, significativos. Que el t\u00edtulo aporte pero no fije su significado. Voy haciendo un listado de muchos t\u00edtulos y los voy eliminando.<\/p>\n<p><strong>En tus obras hay cambios de escalas continuos y simult\u00e1neos: de una zapatilla a un estadio de f\u00fatbol, de una flor que acoge a una ciudad a un tsunami. Escalas que tambi\u00e9n aplicas a los formatos, con una diferencia muy evidente entre obras muy grandes y muy peque\u00f1as que acogen implicaciones muy diversas. <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Para los tama\u00f1os grandes pienso en el espectador viviendo dentro, dejando flotar su mirada en el interior. Si encontrase papeles de tama\u00f1o inmenso, los har\u00eda todav\u00eda m\u00e1s grandes. Por el contrario, el formato peque\u00f1o me gusta por algo diferente aunque muy ligado a lo anterior. Quiero que el espectador se introduzca en la obra, s\u00ed, pero tratando de generar una vida alrededor de lo peque\u00f1o. Por eso me aburre tanto exponer en ciertas galer\u00edas o museos, porque el espacio expositivo marca de una manera un poco desagradable la percepci\u00f3n de la pieza. Prefiero otros espacios.<\/p>\n<p><strong>\u00bfPodr\u00edas explicarte mejor?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Yo tengo una imagen, un deseo que no he logrado hacer y es poder trasladar todo el estudio a otro lugar porque me interesa el taller como paisaje en s\u00ed mismo. Creo que hay una especie de caldo donde se generan muchas serendipias, muchos encuentros con el propio material que son muy reveladoras para la obra. Los \u201ccubos blancos\u201d aseptizan la obra demasiado y por eso me gustar\u00eda elaborar obras que las desvinculen de ese tipo de espacios. A veces he hecho lienzos de 4 por 8 cent\u00edmetros con la intenci\u00f3n de focalizar la mirada de una manera radical, para que te sientas obligado a acercarte mucho a la pared y que te olvides un poco de todo lo dem\u00e1s.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Al mismo tiempo, la manera de abordar unos y otros es diferente en su contenido. En las obras grandes hay una atenci\u00f3n al detalle, a lo peque\u00f1o, con una actitud muy minuciosa. Sin embargo, en los peque\u00f1os sucede lo contrario. Parece un hiperzoom que convierte cualquier superficie en un motivo decorativo, en un pattern que agita todo el contenido<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>De nuevo vuelvo al tema de la sospecha. Desde peque\u00f1o me fascin\u00f3 esa imagen de \u201cBlade Runner\u201d (Ridley Scott, 1982) en la que el detective Deckard utiliza una m\u00e1quina para entrar dentro de una fotograf\u00eda, reelabora la bidimensionalidad de la imagen en un espacio tridimensional para moverse a derecha e izquierda. Est\u00e1 dentro de la habitaci\u00f3n y, por fin, descubre una prueba fundamental. Me encantar\u00eda poder hacer eso. Esa sensaci\u00f3n de que en ciertas im\u00e1genes se esconden detalles determinantes y que no podemos verlos porque est\u00e1n detr\u00e1s de algo, me excita. Algo se esconde ah\u00ed. En ese peque\u00f1o lugar hay una gran prueba.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Hablando de pruebas y de la importancia del estudio en la vinculaci\u00f3n con tu obra, me resulta curioso que, con frecuencia, hagas fotograf\u00edas de tu estudio con la silla delante de una obra a medio terminar, con todo preparado y donde parece que est\u00e1 todo excepto alguien: t\u00fa mismo.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>S\u00ed. El cuadro me ha tragado. Me gusta mucho una fotograf\u00eda de Ilya Kabakov en la que aparece una silla vac\u00eda delante de un dibujo enorme, tambi\u00e9n vac\u00edo, que parece que se lo ha comido.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Est\u00e1s ensayando tambi\u00e9n procesos inversos: en vez del cuadro absorbi\u00e9ndote, haces que sea \u00e9ste el que se desparrame por la habitaci\u00f3n. Es decir, tienes varios bocetos de instalaciones que complementan tus piezas con monta\u00f1as de papel, por ejemplo, avanzando desde el cuadro por el espacio. <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>A muchos creadores que trabajamos con la bidimensionalidad nos ocurre, inevitablemente, que fabulamos con expandir nuestro mundo por el espacio. En muchos de mis escenarios creativos hay algo excesivo, una necesidad de sacarlos hacia fuera, de pretender que el espectador pueda recorrer una obra, que pueda estar ah\u00ed, en ellos. Me interesa mucho que el espectador pueda vivir dentro. Forzosamente los lugares salen hacia fuera en la imaginaci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n<p><strong>De alguna manera ya lo haces al fabricar una atm\u00f3sfera envolvente con la m\u00fasica que t\u00fa mismo compones para algunas obras o al margen de ellas. <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>S\u00ed, de hecho, en esta \u00faltima exposici\u00f3n mi idea es que \u201cDesde el vomitorio\u201d (2011) contenga un micr\u00f3fono que est\u00e1 grabando la banda sonora de esa pieza. Imagino c\u00f3mo pueden sonar esos lugares habitualmente inhabitados. En ellos \u00a0no suele haber gente, s\u00f3lo hay restos, pero querr\u00eda saber qu\u00e9 comen los que all\u00ed viven, qu\u00e9 tipo de arte compran los que lo ocupan, qu\u00e9 sonidos emiten las personas o los objetos que la pueblan.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Algo muy ligado a las arquitecturas que representas: estadios vac\u00edos, grandes construcciones decimon\u00f3nicas desiertas, poblados engullidos.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Me gusta mucho pervertir o transformar el uso, sobre todo humano, de esos lugares, de esas arquitecturas. En una obra de 2009, \u201cLas buenas noticias se dicen en voz baja\u201d convierto un pueblo de monta\u00f1a en algo miniaturizado, casi como unas casitas de chocolate, sobre las que estallan fuegos artificiales. Algo maravilloso est\u00e1 sucediendo mientras duermen. O algo en apariencia asombroso no despierta el inter\u00e9s de los dem\u00e1s, algo que ocurre justo encima de sus cabezas. Por el contrario, en \u201cDesde el vomitorio\u201d quer\u00eda ver qu\u00e9 pasaba con construcciones como los estadios de f\u00fatbol, que siempre vemos llenos de gente, cuando ya no hay nada. Ver qu\u00e9 ocurre despu\u00e9s de un Mundial, c\u00f3mo se quedan esos lugares destinados a miles de personas que lo han sido todo durante tres meses y que de repente est\u00e1n vac\u00edos. Puede pasar cualquier cosa. O eso es lo que yo imagino. En la pintura en general hay un momento en que empiezo a no interesarme tanto por la figura humana como por lo que afecta a esa figura humana. En ese sentido hay un desv\u00edo de lo que es el personaje para realizar un enfoque hacia el fondo. Ah\u00ed hay impl\u00edcitamente un inter\u00e9s por lo ambiental, ah\u00ed est\u00e1 toda la escenograf\u00eda de las pel\u00edculas de David Lynch, esas telas rojas y esos suelos negros y blancos, esas esculturas extra\u00f1as que afectan al espectador de una manera tan emocional y tan bestial. Tambi\u00e9n hay un inter\u00e9s por la m\u00fasica sin voz, la m\u00fasica ambiental, imaginar c\u00f3mo suenan los lugares que habitan esos personajes.<\/p>\n<p><strong>\u00bfQu\u00e9 supone para ti la m\u00fasica y los sonidos y c\u00f3mo abordas este campo dentro de tu producci\u00f3n?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>La m\u00fasica empieza incluso antes que la obra pl\u00e1stica. Recuerdo que a mis 16 \u00f3 17 a\u00f1os me compr\u00e9 un multipistas de casette y recuerdo grabar dos pistas en una cara y otras dos en la otra haciendo peque\u00f1as composiciones. Me interesa la composici\u00f3n por capas, esos a\u00f1adidos, la repetici\u00f3n, la estratificaci\u00f3n en m\u00fasicos como Steve Reich o Philip Glass. C\u00f3mo generan profundidad, formas y geometr\u00edas a partir de sonidos, como en \u201cMusic for 18 Musicians\u201d (1974-1976) de Reich, elaborando estructuras que se a\u00f1aden poco a poco y que, por supuesto, se relacionan de manera intr\u00ednseca con el resto de mi producci\u00f3n. La m\u00fasica es un medio potent\u00edsimo para generar emociones diferentes a las que provoca la obra pl\u00e1stica.<\/p>\n<p><strong>\u00bfY te sientes m\u00e1s c\u00f3modo con un campo de producci\u00f3n que con otro? <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>En general, la obra con la que me siento m\u00e1s inc\u00f3modo es la que m\u00e1s alegr\u00edas me da y esa es la obra sobre papel. Su factura es bastante inc\u00f3moda, es un trabajo muy cerebral, muy contenido, requiere horas de trabajo, procesos lentos. Siempre est\u00e1 la ansiedad de verlas acabadas. Entrar al estudio, verla despu\u00e9s de 6 meses y todav\u00eda sin acabar es bastante dif\u00edcil. Periodos tan largos obligan a volcar muchos temas personales. Por el contrario, la pintura es para m\u00ed muy c\u00f3moda por puro contraste, desde el olor de los materiales, del aguarr\u00e1s, del aceite de lino, ya me engancho. Y volver a ello es maravilloso.<\/p>\n<p><strong>No me gustar\u00eda terminar esta conversaci\u00f3n sin preguntarte por el futuro, ya que en tus obras lo que viene y lo que est\u00e1 sucediendo siempre est\u00e1 ligado y parece incluso que ya ha pasado, as\u00ed que \u00bfd\u00f3nde te ves dentro de diez a\u00f1os?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Probablemente en Madrid, en un estudio con luz natural, en un contexto no muy diferente del que estoy. Seguir rodeado de artistas a los que quiero y admiro un mont\u00f3n y ampliar la red de relaciones, tanto profesionales como humanas. Y seguir expandiendo mis paisajes.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Iv\u00e1n L\u00f3pez Munuera<\/strong>.\u00a0Es cr\u00edtico y comisario independiente de arte contempor\u00e1neo. Licenciado en Historia del Arte por la Universidad Complutense de Madrid, explora la inscripci\u00f3n del arte contempor\u00e1neo en el contexto cr\u00edtico de las ciencias sociales y en los estudios de medios. Ha realizado labores de comisariado, documentaci\u00f3n y gesti\u00f3n en instituciones como Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sof\u00eda, ACAX (Agency for Contemporary Art Exchange), Ludwig Museum, Matadero Madrid, ARCO, MAPFRE Foundation, Comunidad de Madrid, Fundaci\u00f3n Su\u00f1ol o el Instituto Complutense de Ciencias Musicales. Publica regularmente en medios como &#8216;El Pa\u00eds, &#8216;Arte y Parte&#8217;, &#8216;Goya&#8217;, &#8216;L\u00e1piz&#8217;, &#8216;Pasajes de Arquitectura y Cr\u00edtica\u2019, &#8216;Pasajes Dise\u00f1o&#8217; o &#8216;Urgente&#8217;. Actualmente es profesor en IE University y ha sido tutor de &#8216;Arte Latinoamericano en el Siglo XX&#8217; de la Universidad de Georgetown. Ha impartido conferencias en numerosos foros acad\u00e9micos, como la Universidad Complutense, la Escuela T\u00e9cnica Superior de Arquitectura de Madrid, la Universidad Europea de Madrid, la Universidad Carlos III, el C\u00edrculo de Bellas Artes de Madrid, el CENDEAC o el Instituto Europeo di Design. Es director y presentador del programa de entrevistas\u00a0<em>Fuzzy Now Broadcasting TV<\/em>; miembro de la\u00a0<em>Plataforma Curatorial\u00a0<\/em>para j\u00f3venes comisarios; y del grupo de trabajo e investigaci\u00f3n de Matadero-Madrid\u00a0<em>El Ranchito<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.fuzzynowbroadcastingtv.blogspot.com\/\">http:\/\/www.fuzzynowbroadcastingtv.blogspot.com\/<\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"#_ftnref1\" name=\"_ftn1\">[1]<\/a> Kubler, George. <em>La configuraci\u00f3n del tiempo. <\/em>Trad. Jorge Luj\u00e1n. Ed. Nerea. Madrid, 1988.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"#_ftnref2\" name=\"_ftn2\">[2]<\/a> La historiograf\u00eda art\u00edstica \u2013en especial la de ra\u00edz germana- ha mezclado de manera recurrente ambos conceptos, el de tiempo biol\u00f3gico y el de cronol\u00f3gico, para explicar ideas como el auge o la decadencia de un estilo, equipar\u00e1ndolo al discurrir de la vida, a la juventud o a la vejez. As\u00ed, Riegl, Worringer, Winckelmann&#8230;<\/p>\n<p><a class=\"anchorLink\" href=\"https:\/\/www.santiagotalavera.com\/textos\/ivan_lmunuera.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Descargar texto<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n             \t\r\n     \t    <div id=\"tab-graciela-garciala-isla-de-los-voracesque-el-destino-de-las-cosas-se-decida-en-lugares-pequenos-blanca-soto-artemadrid-2009-792\" class=\"tab-pane fade\">\r\n     \t    \t[vc_column_text css=&#8221;&#8221;]<\/p>\n<h2>La isla de los voraces<\/h2>\n<h4>Exposici\u00f3n &#8220;Que el destino de las cosas se decida en lugares peque\u00f1os&#8221;. Graciela Garc\u00eda<\/h4>\n<p>Camino por un desayuno que es un campo de golf, que es una isla, que es un jard\u00edn donde la maleza de filigrana descubre tesoros de mentira, ecos de objetos cuya esencia se perdi\u00f3.<\/p>\n<p>Disfruto de un paseo con elipsis y apenas me doy cuenta, pero cada vez que retorno al sendero tengo un tama\u00f1o diferente. Quiz\u00e1s si muerdo ese d\u00f3nut vuelva a mi tama\u00f1o de siempre, pero \u00bfqui\u00e9n lo desea? Mejor no resistirse y dejarse llevar por la fuerza de lo suave o esta pesadilla de az\u00facar.<\/p>\n<p>Una miniatura es la r\u00e9plica abarcable de una supuesta realidad. En ella nos comprendemos. Una vieja costumbre burguesa lleva a la gente a dimensionar sus posesiones encargando su reproducci\u00f3n a escala. Estas peque\u00f1as piezas vuelven inofensivo aquello que representan y permiten observarlo desde varios puntos al tiempo, para dejar claro qui\u00e9n posee a qui\u00e9n.<\/p>\n<p>Este jard\u00edn de miniaturas sostiene un discurso fragmentario, quiz\u00e1s por sus perspectivas imposibles<br \/>\nsoldadas con trampantojos. Parece responder a la misma necesidad que los gabinetes de curiosidades, a una pulsi\u00f3n coleccionista que abarca todo tipo de objetos forzando relaciones entre ellos para recrear un universo abarcable. Se sabe que el primer nombre de El Jard\u00edn de las Delicias fue Una Pintura sobre la Variedad del Mundo. Como en el c\u00e9lebre tr\u00edptico, la l\u00ednea del horizonte en La Isla de los Voraces se sit\u00faa muy arriba, para permitir que nos adentremos en una red de detalles inestables. Como ante un decorado fant\u00e1stico para ni\u00f1os, sentimos una extra\u00f1a tensi\u00f3n. Lo que parece ingenuo esconde algo peligroso, m\u00e1s inquietante cuanto m\u00e1s edulcorado.<\/p>\n<p>Esta exposici\u00f3n Que el Destino de las Cosas se Decida en Lugares Peque\u00f1os es discretamente voraz, como el m\u00e1s modesto de los caprichos.<\/p>\n<p><a class=\"anchorLink\" href=\"https:\/\/www.santiagotalavera.com\/textos\/graciela_garcia.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Descargar texto<\/a>[\/vc_column_text]     \t    <\/div>\r\n\r\n                        <\/div>                \t\t\t\r\n        \t<\/div>\r\n        <\/div>\r\n        [\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[vc_row][vc_column][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-627","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v20.3 (Yoast SEO v27.5) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-premium-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>TEXTOS<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/santiagotalavera.com\/en\/texts\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"TEXTS\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"[vc_row][vc_column][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/santiagotalavera.com\/en\/texts\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Santiago Talavera\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/SantiagoTalavera\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2024-05-28T09:51:16+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/santiagotalavera.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/03\/Nave_Sotoliva_Santiago_Talavera_ALTA_\u00a9_Campo_Visible_163-scaled.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1707\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"2560\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@s_talavera\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"89 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/texts\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/texts\\\/\",\"name\":\"TEXTOS\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2010-10-29T09:10:03+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2024-05-28T09:51:16+00:00\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/texts\\\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/texts\\\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/texts\\\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Portada\",\"item\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"TEXTS\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/santiagotalavera.com\\\/en\\\/\",\"name\":\"Santiago Talavera\",\"description\":\"Santiago Talavera. 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