SKINS

CLARA MUÑOZ

One Possible Route (Extract)

In the museum there are walls that can be bent and they incite us to go in for a walk. That’s what we can see when we observe the work called “Rotura” (Broken) by the artist Domingo Díaz Vega. In the shadow of the wall’s skin, we fall into small shelters, into the very heart of the space poetry. The half-opened wall reveals to us black stands of a magic scenery, the deep privacy of the wall whose skin doesn’t resist that much strain and fall down. In an inevitable fantasy, we introduce ourselves between the skin and the wall to live in the gaps that drive us to the painful waters that quench the artist’s thirst. The man is also a half-opened being who gnaws and devastates but who needs to intoxicate himself with the dangerous liquid that wets the violets under the false skies.

The Darkness that discovers the makeup of the wall adhered to the skin that doesn’t resist or transmit to us the inner silence, the silence of the sky without a moon. Dive us in the wall’s darkness is like dying, almost, in the hands of the world, like a midnight swim in the sea. Domingo Díaz Vega with “Rotura” opens the limits of the room to the universe of poetic fantasy, to the rapture and maybe to the perversion and madness. There are breads made of light in the cupboard, underneath tablecloths, behind the face, in the gaps of the wood. Behind the walls is the whole world, but before getting there we have to go through the universe of subconscious which is between inner and outer that shapes the skin of things. The color black that the artist shows behind the bent skin has deepness and shadows in the shadows. The walls of the museum seem to acquire the flexibility of a sheet of paper and in its curvature doesn’t allow to house paints or drawings. The wall of the room is not good anymore to support an additional image because it is poetical in itself.