SOBRE MI
E XPOSITION - RESTAURANT RIFF
The years have already passed sharing great talks about art and its commitments in its different cultures and means of expression, father and son, debating with passion and verve about existential questions as if our lives were at stake. Since I was a child I was lucky to be considered an equal at the dinner table, escaping from the french fries on repeat and often sharing the menu of “the grown-ups”, although I also used the dining room as a battlefield, a place to confront the one who fed me, refusing to eat and hurting myself with my own weapons. I quickly understood that I like or dislike is not as directly related as I thought to good or bad, but that my tastes are born from the human relationship that surrounds it. With time I realized that much more is hidden here, that these relationships are full of power games and that on the battlefield, where so much blood was shed, I structured my tastes based on my victories and my defeats. The aesthetics, and the tastes that govern me are then the conclusion of all these relationships, consolidated in my memory.
“This is not fine dining” is an exhibition born from the need to question a cliché. There are many stories in the world of gastronomy that deserve to be told, but I find it necessary to emphasize that the history of cuisine, like that of art, has always been instrumentalized by the dominant culture, established by those in power. The different aesthetics or currents are the conclusion, among other things, of the social relations of the time and their mannerisms, because “this pleases the king and consequently the whole court”.
It was important for me to understand that this instrumentalization is a consequence of the same power games that took place at the table of my house, but between adults in places of high standing. I am not trying to judge here, I am just pointing out the fact that the development of painting, like that of dance, or cooking, has been calibrated to the expectations of the customers, and not of the artists. Therefore, few arts, or artists, have freed themselves from the need to be validated, to assume the subversive role of sharing their most intimate madness, with all the flavors it implies. For purely economic purposes we artists are accustomed to remain faithful to the demands of the outside eye, confined to antiquated structures. Until not so long ago “art” served only to reproduce the idealized images of high society, staging its narratives and creating a very precise distinction of the culture or folklore of the people, with its fascinating songs, rhymes and grandmother's recipes, versus the music, dances and other ornaments of “high society”. A way to sublimate and differentiate the power of the plebs, and to show the value of one's own culture as an identity signature.
What does this have to do with “fine dining”?
“This is not fine dining” proposes a critique of forced mannerism that has nothing to do with food, quality or sincerity of gesture. It is an open provocation that tries to differentiate very clearly the substance from the form. “Fine dining” is the ostentation of the form, of the container and not of the content. It has nothing to do with the free and unleashed creativity of so many artists fascinated by their own discoveries who find their limits and scribble with them. The search that I share with my father, Bernd, is the sincerity of the spontaneous gesture; the proposal of truly innovative experiences; it is to build fertile contexts for creativity, free of all the noise that prevents to pay attention to the artist's experience.
Many restaurants, many artists devote much of their energy to build the container, the form, the concept, the idea, and forget to fill it with experiences, adventures, passion, obsessions, madness. I understand the difficulty of losing control, of feeling fragile, of being vulnerable, of being afraid, of falling, but only there are the treasures that we so desperately seek, the nuggets that make art a “real” path.
We all know that the great French chefs historically served the nobility, and that when their heads rolled they were out of work and had to reinvent themselves, filling the cities with high-level kitchens at the service of what would then be their new clients, the bourgeoisie.We must not forget that the Michelin guide was literally invented to “burn the tire”, a way of consuming the rubber of the so famous tire firm. In this original way, all those Parisians who, being great gourmets and gourmandes, suffered from the typical centralism of the big cities, doubting that there was anything of value beyond the limits of their city, were encouraged to travel
Let's differentiate between eating well and parade.
Many restaurants, many artists devote much of their energy to build the container, the form, the concept, the idea, and forget to fill it with experiences, adventures, passion, obsessions, madness. I understand the difficulty of losing control, of feeling fragile, of being vulnerable, of being afraid, of falling, but only there are the treasures that we so desperately seek, the nuggets that make art a “real” path.
We all know that the great French chefs historically served the nobility, and that when their heads rolled they were out of work and had to reinvent themselves, filling the cities with high-level kitchens at the service of what would then be their new clients, the bourgeoisie.We must not forget that the Michelin guide was literally invented to “burn the tire”, a way of consuming the rubber of the so famous tire firm. In this original way, all those Parisians who, being great gourmets and gourmandes, suffered from the typical centralism of the big cities, doubting that there was anything of value beyond the limits of their city, were encouraged to travel
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These paintings, on sale, are part of the exhibition dedicated to the RIFF Restaurant in Valencia.
All of them will remain at the exhibition site until June 30, 2025.
A ny purchase implies the collection of the works from the date,
thus allowing to make the payment in installments if necessary.
Contact me for more information.
CONTACT
PRECIO 2550€
1.3m x 1.4m
Fueron determinantes los pasos bajo el más estricto cuidado,
¿cómo encontrar la trufa sin levantar demasiada tierra?
El olor me embriagaba, su juego de naipes olía a fresco limón.
VENDIDO
PRECIO 2820€
1.6m x 1.5m
El trazo marca un momento, el tiempo esconde su trazo; la semana permanecí bajo la lluvia, los espasmos me despertaron.
PRECIO 5120€
2m x 1.4m
Cuando la vi nacer me conmovió su llanto, cuello de oca y piel de mimbre; cuando se levantó sobre sus patas el suelo se desplomó, y lo que parecía estable marchitó, su paso trazó nuestra piel y de ahi nació la incertidumbre
“Caida con gracia”
PRECIO Individual 1830€ · Cojunto 3320€
1.1m x 0.9m
Sentía como mi cuerpo se caía de espaldas, la cabeza primero.
Tumbado sentía mi cuerpo ser aspirado por un huracán, yo buscaba desesperado el ojo.
Fue ardua la tarea de ordenar el caos, pero al fin y al cabo la vida me iba en ello.
“Un cuento incompleto”
PRECIO 2110€
1.2m x 1m
Sin darme cuenta observé que había llegado, un espacio en blanco ilustraba su silencio.
Cada uno de mis pasos manchaba toda aquella pulcritud, inconmensurable era el placer que
nacía de cada uno de mis pasos y por una vez sentí haber llegado antes que el zorro, fui yo el primero en mear sobre la nieve.
VENDIDO
“Lugar de encuentro”
PRECIO 2330€
1m x 1m
La luz del sol se arrastraba sobre el suelo calentando la humeda cloaca donde yacía
su cuerpo desmoronado, ya no trataba de retomar aliento, su medico había abandonado y
desde desde esa posición una vana esperanza de que más allá de la tinieblas se escondiese una
luz reconfortante le hacía sonreir.