Exercise in Disappearance
Jordi Alcaraz
“Creation is the process of generating a state of availability, in which the first thing to be created is emptiness and empty space. The only thing that artists perhaps create is the space in which creation takes place. And within this creative space there is nothing (so that something may be created within it).” — José Ángel Valente
The oeuvre of Catalan artist Jordi Alcaraz (b. 1963, Barcelona) is defined by a certain purity and a personal language of shape and colour. Through a lyrical handling of materials he creates realms that are as ambiguous as his Catalan antecedents such as Antoni Tàpies (1923-2012), Joan Miró (1893-1983) and Salvador Dalí (1904-1989). His use of reflection, distortion and enigmatic marks connect Arte Povera, Surrealism and Abstract Expressionism. Spanish art critic Mariano Navarro describes Alcaraz’s works as “an extraordinary metaphor of the practice of art … that I dare define as philosophical … carriers of a singular poetry.” Blurring the lines between sculpture, installation, painting and literature, Alcaraz starts from a carefully chosen base, an open blank book or tactile paper, to build various physical layers of materials in his work, that overlap, like defensive shields, creating complex striations of meaning. A common hallmark is the manipulation of, and experimentation with, transparent plexiglass plate through breaking, bending or melting. The result is an assembly, an installation which combines the formal elements that characterize “a painting” (frame, protective glass) with the categories of sculptures and drawings, creating an alienating unit — indescribable and yet somehow entirely recognisable and familiar. To describe Alcaraz’s work requires a new conversation, in that he’s a conceptual artist who’s dealing with process; to some extent the viewer actually experiences the work being created, and thereby the artist opens up a previously unseen dimension. Alcaraz’s work is not easy — upon first encountering it one feels, almost simultaneously, a strong sense of attraction combined with with a complete lack of understanding. This is, one comes to realise, entirely intentional as a fundamental tenet of Alcaraz’s work is mystery; the comprehension of there being something one can’t quite comprehend is quite simply all part of the allure. Perhaps somewhat paradoxically, at the same time Alcaraz’s work is incredibly personal and reveals a great deal about the artist in that he’s not afraid to leave features that are typical of the working process, or rather, the gestation of the work, such as keys, staples, screws and adhesive tape, on view. Alcaraz’s work often stems from a lack of definition, which means any attempt to box or define him might lead to inaccuracies, misunderstanding and an over simplification of what is, at heart, incredibly complex work. Perhaps by that reasoning to write on the subject might lean towards futility, but nevertheless, Alcaraz is indisputably an artist worth talking about — and to that end, if one can shed some small light it might at least lead to some sense of familiarity.
“Autoretrat (al taller)” (Self-portrait), mixed media (2020) by Jordi Alcaraz
“Untitled”, mixed media (2019) by Jordi Alcaraz
Alcaraz’s work is neither pure nor clean at a literal, or formal level — we see the entrails, the trickling of ink, the wire that supports it, the torn cardboard and the dripping paintbrush — materials, tools and detritus that are part of the artists everyday life, items that might have utilitarian purposes, yet are a relevant part of his work of art. Thereby, Alcaraz’s work can be seen as elevating and deifying undervalued or rejected objects — revealing the artists love for those unsung accoutrements of daily life. Very often humble, simple objects, sometimes damaged beyond repair, which have had a rough and turbulent life, found wandering through antique shops and second-hand markets. Alcaraz takes these objects and manipulates and transfigures them — almost like a potter modelling clay; the object remains intact, yet it is not as it once was, losing its original meaning and taking on another. Indeed the artist’s interest in objects without any intrinsic or apparent appeal has led him to be compared to Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964). Yet he could also be compared to a craftsman from La Bisbal, which to a degree is reflected in Alcaraz’s studio; one might observe its similarity to that of carpenter’s or blacksmith’s workshop — organised chaos in which finished works sit in dialogue with half-finished works propped up on easels. Alcaraz is not some self-contained entity, but part of a long line of painters and sculptors, potters and craftspeople who shared the same motivations and influences — similarities therefore can be seen in anything from Rembrandt (1606-1669) to the anonymous artist.
“Untitled”, mixed media (2019) by Jordi Alcaraz
Each action Alcaraz takes leads to another, and thus there is a dialogue between the artist and matter — each of them goes their own way until they reach equilibrium. After all, Art is not as simplistic and flat as an “intent” and “end product” with nothing in between; beyond the intellectual process, there is a far deeper dimension, whereby the artist’s hands concoct and complete everything that reason leaves blank. In that vein, at least to some extent, it’s clear Alcaraz is aware of his role being not only that of a creator, but also a transmitter. Despite this, Alacaraz has no aspiration to present himself as a mystic — his character is jovial, ironic, even caustic, but never the least bit pretentious (as evidenced in his series of self-portraits in which his effigy is conspicuously absent). Perhaps if anything, a single theme, or concept, that runs throughout the artist’s work is limit, and also, simultaneously, the denial of limit. Alcaraz imposes various limitations on his process, the most apparent of which is an almost complete absence of colour — all of his work is limited to the use of black and white; only very occasionally does colour appear: a dark blue, or, the earthy brown base of his ceramics.
“Alcaraz is the most important living Spanish artist. Since the likes of Tàpies and Barceló (b. 1957), there has not been someone with the strength or energy Alcaraz transmits. All of his works are unique, magical and different; they have character, personality and the quality of the great masters. His work tells a story, it’s never empty and always has content. Alcaraz is an inveterate reader and this is something transmitted in his work — it’s always about books, culture and art.” — Pep Boixader, Gallery B.R
By doing so Alcaraz gives short shrift to the limitations of light and shadow — the white that dominates in the majority of his works is at the mercy of conditions that come into play that are outside the control of the author, or the spectator. Light, or the absence thereof, creating shadows and reflections in the strata of methacrylate, only serves to make his work more powerful; manipulating perceptions and blurring the limits. The integration of the frame only serves to confuse things further, as rather than a passive or secondary element it becomes an active part of the work. Traditionally speaking the frame is a decorative element which serves to enhance and highlight the work, giving it presence and, to some degree, to differentiate it from the wall, to give it space it needs. Alcaraz decided to break from tradition, and from the limit of the frame — which can be seen as restrictive, even as stifling — and to integrate it into the painting. As a result, the glass takes on new meaning; usually nothing more than a protective feature, it bulges and billows beyond the parameters of the frame, for e.g. to take on the shape of a landscape.
“Untitled”, mixed media (2019) by Jordi Alcaraz
Alcaraz is an artist whose work is very hard to categorize, and perhaps in this instance categorization is entirely unnecessary, even unhelpful — he’s a painter because he paints and a sculptor because he takes on and works with volumes. Yet he’s also a draughtsman, working in line and charcoal and an engraver because he scratches the methacryate almost as if drypoint etching. Something of a renaissance man — sculpture, painting, pottery, drawing and engraving are all part of his repertoire — and form part of an oeuvre that makes it nigh impossible to describe him as more a painter than a sculptor, an engraver than a draughtsman and so on. In his own words Alcaraz says that deep down he never stopped working on the classic genres (painting, portraits, landscapes and still lives) and to some extent he’s right — as although these genres are sui generis they can all be found in his work. Opaque or translucent forms are dispersed across a white background as if objects on a table; a trunk or roots evoke a landscape; an oval, or presence, the outline of a figure — though abstracted to such an extent it throws any attempt at conventional academic categorization into doubt. Indeed Alcaraz strips his portraits of any rhetoric or recognizable features — instead he looks for the essence, for what is imperceptible. This is after all what any great portrait painter should strive to achieve — for a good portrait is not merely a carbon copy of the face but one that captures something of the personality of the sitter. Alcaraz is an artist who doesn’t court publicity, he doesn’t like to be seen, he doesn’t like making grandiose speeches, or talking at length about his work, and for that matter, he doesn’t much enjoy public events. Entirely removed from egocentricity, he strives hard to convey in his work (as far as possible) an anonymous, spontaneous character. Whilst Alcaraz’s work might sometimes seem overly complex, or hard to grasp, painting is after all, essentially, a human expression, closely linked to life experience. Life is often overwhelming, and as with life, paintings might sometimes seem overwhelming because we don’t entirely understand them. One thing however is certain; that to appreciate Alcaraz’s work it’s necessary to embrace the mystery.
Ben Weaver
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References
Jordi Alcaraz (2019), Elba Editorial