The process of writing and directing drives you to such extremes that it's natural to feel an affinity with insanity. I approach that madness as something dangerous, and I'm afraid, but also I want to go to it, to see what's there, to embrace it. I don't know why, but I'm drawn.

Darío Argento.



The displacement of the ego

Are you awake? You were talking recently about the meaning... of our... life... unselfishness of art... Let's take music.

Stalker.


One of the juiciest hypotheses to explain the problems of the creative process and its impact factor on the viewer sustains that all artistic manifestations which have overcome the historical filters and which today we consider masterpieces –we will ignore for the moment the works and artists that have become invisible to History– have in some way overcome the artist’s pure subjectivity. This approach, which seems to challenge our most immediate romantic heritage, does not deny that many of these pieces come from a subjective experience, or even a radical subjectivity –in which case where would Goya be!– but then states that they have gone beyond that exclusive point of view and taken up a situation in an open and undifferentiated space towards which viewers can project their own experience.

According to this reading, when an artist is incapable of subtracting himself from that sterile subjectivism, when he produces narratives that are so locked up in themselves that they block access for the viewer, he is feeding passive audiences, as unproductive, futile and insubstantial as the work itself, and in the words of Jacques Derrida, “he would be betraying the uniqueness of the other he is appealing to”. Enrique Marty warns us of this danger: we are all “obsessed with ourselves”, but a true work of art should be capable of breaking through the amniotic membrane to enable such self-absorption to be dissolved and leave room for the multiple persons coming in from the outside. Letting go of one’s creative self is only possible for the very best.

Enrique Marty’s production is generous in this kind of letting go, and so projects that are based on the private experience of his unique family context achieve the universal expression of the unheimlich, the element of unfamiliarity and distress that we all feel in our closest relationships: Manipulated Album (1999); Apocalipstick (2004/2003); Superwoman (2008/1995). In a surprising dialectical wordplay, Enrique Marty likewise resorts to the self-portrait to deactivate precisely the self-referencing element: Four Brains (2009); Fear and Megalomania in Fifteen Different States (2010); Modern Life in Four States (2011); You Are All Individuals! (2011); Pray Pray P.I.G.S. (2013). In order to analyse this process of deindividualization, we could take for example his installation entitled 80 Fanatics, which formed part of the Premiere exhibition at the Kunsthalle in Mannheim in 2010. This denouncing of fanaticism –self-fanaticism?– included oil paintings, video installations and a gigantic “anatomical spiral” made up of 80 sculptures and dozens of paintings on the wall. All the characters are self-portraits of the artist dressed in camouflage, which as “confused, entranced, terrified, injured or ill” pieces seem to be heading for a known destination: self-alienation. Marty points out that the characters “look at or follow an idol that turns out to be a copy of themselves” –a copy of the artist himself– and that “the history of humanity is full of fanaticism”. In fact, paraphrasing Luis Buñuel, Marty describes himself as an “anti-fanaticism fanatic”. Since this self-alienation, we wander “with no direction, in a herd, towards madness and infinity”. We thereby see that from the personal –his own obsessions– Marty has leapt into the universal. His face, repeated over and over again, is now an undifferentiated and common face, and the moral laziness of this fanaticized man is translated into an acute expression of human nature. In short, despite the fact that I have been profoundly mediatized by my subjective experience of the artist, you almost always end up appreciating only what you desire, need or let yourself see in his work.



As if in a mirror

I have always had the ability to attach my demons to my chariot. And they have been forced to make themselves useful.

Ingmar Bergman.


The artist and the viewer can be understood as two interdependent powers as communication develops at least between two modes of the same subject. Acknowledging an active function in the viewer mode, we could say that the viewer receives the work of art by amplifying and activating it. He is then authorized as a demiurge, as the constructor of meaning, endowing this already created, pre-existent and recognizable work with new possibilities of existence, cohabitation, reformulation, and even destruction, by including it in his own private cosmos as an element of the game. In this regard, we can interpret Enrique Marty’s creative work as a channel for introspection, in other words, as a way of understanding our own biographical circumstances –the other that exists in me– and as a means of communication with the world and with others.

Just as Umberto Eco suggested in the postscript to The Name of the Rose (1980), it is precisely when the viewer becomes a viewer by means of the author that the most authentic function of the creative act crystallizes: “Writing means constructing, through the text, one’s own model reader. When the writer plans something new and projects a different reader, he wants to reveal to the public what the public should want, even if they do not know it. He wants the reader to discover himself through him”. Derrida says the same: “Mass production does not form readers, but fantasmatically presupposes a reader who is already programmed”. In his triple role as creator, thinker and sensitive subject, Marty takes on with amazing discipline the task of feeling and thinking the world with no reserve, to become, through his work, a kind of social auditor, an inventor of new models of viewers.

It would be a mistake to see this commitment of Marty’s as an accessory, as I rather think that it is to be found at the base of all his creative thought and that it is the driving force that structures him: the viewer exists in his head long before he is materialized in the exhibition room. From this perspective, his art works as a specular device, propitiating the kind of tragic self-reflection that Marty constantly subjects the viewer and himself to: the mirror as the inspector of one’s own conscience, the amplifier of the question about being and appearing, and also a symbol of the eternal conflict between the face and the mask,  between the true and the false, the vehicle of the double, all core problems in the work of this artist: “My intention is to give viewers a slap in the face, to make them think about themselves. I want to bring them into the mystery, into an uncomfortable space, into an interrogation”. And later on he adds “I am always challenging the viewer, but it is a mental challenge”.

Enrique Marty’s work is thus highly enigmatic and mystic, to such an extent that it requires an initiation. I am referring to the degrees you have to reach in order to penetrate the visionary dimension of his work. I mean mental and plastic initiation, where the rite of mystery is replaced by the viewer’s own aesthetical experience, which will never be easy: “Contemporary art requires an effort. Reading a cowboy novel is not the same as reading an essay. Watching Beautiful Mind, directed by Ron Howard, is not the same as seeing Spider, by Cronenberg: both films analyse the mind of a schizophrenic, but whereas in the former it is served up already chewed and digested, in the latter we have to do all the work ourselves”. It is important to point out that Marty is present, when putting together each of his projects, at the creation of his own voice as an artist constantly prone to revolution and experimentation, while at the same time he shamelessly invokes, as I said, the need for a new audience, a new viewer. In this process of permanent reinvention, he has gradually and furiously invalidated many of the great myths of contemporary museum studies, proposing in each case mordant challenges for the public. 

In his intervention in 2015 for the Patio Herreriano Museum Chapel in Valladolid, Enrique Marty made a headlong attack on the modern prejudice that rejects accumulation and demands solitude for works of art in a museum. The heterogeneous and hyper-massive assembly of Alguien, pensando que hacía algo bueno, liberó a las serpientes (Somebody, thinking he was doing something good, set the snakes free), was not only used as a formal resource but also responded to a semantic necessity: the untiring struggle against all pretensions of purity, the affirmation of imperfection as a decisive sign of humanity and the primacy of the accumulative against the individual and isolation. At the same time, the blending of topics, styles and materials neutralized the logic of rational discursive coherence, paradox declared war on closed and unilateral readings and the expressive meteorite of the assembly rebelled against the perverse hygiene of the well-known white cube.

Even though this installation looked like a random accumulation of objects and visual noise, it was, however, held up by a regulated and deeply meditated assembly, weighed up a priori in order to create a meaningful structure. The hyper-massification, therefore, had nothing to do with the spontaneous chaos that takes place in a landfill, but rather connected with the complexities inherent to the inside of a jungle. The complexity was understood not as anarchy or confusion in the shapes and concepts, but rather as a quality of that which needs to be taken on with care and reflection, but also with instinct and trembling, as would happen were we to head into the heart of an ancient forest at dead of night. 

Indeed, underneath the apparent chaos of this installation in the Patio Herreriano chapel, there was a plan of the district in Turin where Nietzsche went insane. Likewise, El ocaso de los ídolos o cómo se filosofa a martillazos (Twilight of the Idols or how to philosophize with a hammer) (1887) went conceptually through Marty’s project from its origins, in 2011, when the first phase of production brought together almost 200 pieces under the title Fall of the Idols; it was exhibited in Brussels in 2013 under the curatorship of Filip Luyckx (there are now over 500 pieces in the series).

The death of God announced by the German philosopher, the loss of historical and moral centrality, opened up an unexplored territory, a new possibility for humanity to relate to what it is. Even today, it seems necessary to recall that this aphorism was not meant to be a provocation or a declaration of violence, but rather the description of the natural end of the belief in supreme truths. It was a tragic lament, the dragomanic revelation of an extremely dangerous moral and cultural situation: the fall of eternal values, or as Epicurus would say, of infinite falsehoods, it dissolved closed –although extremely efficient– concepts such as Justice, Good, Equality and Truth, thereby placing us on the dark path of nihilism but also situating us on a new horizon, open to the possibility of growing beyond any limit.

Most of us nowadays accept the idea that we are not determined by outside forces, that life is there to enjoy and that we are free to take our own decisions by exercising our will and making our own efforts. Faced with this laxity, Marty questions certain key theses of our times, taking them apart and re-evaluating them from an extremely crude and ferociously ironic plastic language: the principle of natural freedom, interpersonal communication and the possibility of a possible operation or not, the ultra-aesthetic and hyper-sophisticated technological dogmas, the concept of cultural and historical identity on a micro and macroscopic level, the idea of consumer art, the artist’s own category and the sacred nature of the artistic skills impressed in the work of art. 

In relation to this last point, it is important to point out that the assembly at the Herreriano was formed of remains accumulated over the years in the artist’s studio, and from collaborating with people who had nothing to do with the field of creation. Based on the photographic documentation that the artist himself compulsively records on his journeys all over the world –especially religious objects and pieces– these workshop remains were used as construction material for new icons; icon-idols with a new meaning, via a triple somersault, as not only does he redefine them in the nature of the poor material employed, but also in the actual process of manufacturing, far removed from the classical concept of specialized authorship, and in the psychophysical conditions of the context where they were exhibited: a Catholic chapel redesigned as a space for contemporary art. 

Despite the extraordinary complexity of his work, Marty is an artist of the essential and in his frontal attack on the descriptive or merely decorative purpose of art, he waives the effects of technological hyper-sophistication. The idols in the installation in the Patio Herreriano, in their new tragicomic and denaturalized nature, posed a challenge with the crudity of the poor material they were made of and with the uniqueness of their amateur manufacturing. Not only that, but they were accompanied by all sorts of ignoble objects: printed cardboard boxes with their brand names still visible, cut with a Stanley knife, plastic tubes, shelves taken from who knows where, Christmas lights and adornments, Carnival costumes, old planks, plastic plants and flowers, seashells, hospital masks, teddy bear hair, natural hair and a saxophone, among others. The installation was also bathed in a non-selective –and therefore non-manipulative– atmospheric light. There was no sound or audiovisual projection, none of the resources so casually used today to work the miracle of artistic intensification.

Once the Herreriano Chapel had been transformed into a new cultic space, viewers were forced to eternally wander round the hyper-massified centre, establishing constant dialogues between the objects and the gazes, and giving rise to ongoing contamination between sense and nonsense, although without being able to actually go into the inviolable heart of the Holy of Holies of the dethroned idols. 

As a result of the multiple process of assigning new meanings that both the compositional and the conceptual elements were subjected to, Enrique Marty’s installation in the Patio Herreriano enabled an extreme experience –perceiving something already known as something new. It was a viewer in a state of purity, with no previous experience, who leant over into the depths of the abyss and was forced to sustain for himself the reading and meaning of the piece, and by extension, the meaning of the world.



Monitoring and suspecting

Falsehood is invariably the child of fear in one form or another.

Aleister Crowley.


Art, for Enrique Marty, is not here to make our lives more pleasant or more useful, but to make it more problematic, and faced with these extreme ethics –his aesthetics have become ethics– the recipient of his work should have a reflexive and vigilant attitude. Otherwise, he will spin like a top around reductionist readings that are limited to seeing in his work gore, violence, scandal, terror and freakishness: “I offer something to the viewer and in exchange the viewer should offer me all his attention”.

The Art is Dangerous project (2009-13) transformed this demand on the viewer into a totalizing manifesto, a textless proclamation –hence its effectiveness– of what art, the artist and the viewer should be for him. It is a series of sculptures of naked human bodies, on a smaller than life scale, and whose skin appears to be covered in Yacuza tattoos, Nazi symbols and all kinds of ideological emblems of extralegal connotations that are not authorized by the predominating morality, all of them made with a fine brush and exquisite precision. The challenging attitude of the characters –portraits of artists who are close to this one– is reinforced by the fact that they all carry knives in their hands, real and sharp knives, a wide range of knives, daggers, machetes and hooks that call out directly to the viewer: “These sculptures are really dangerous, and if anyone tries to come up to them with the wrong intention, they will defend themselves”. Marty’s mandate is final: art is no longer a game –or maybe, together with war, it is the only real game– and whoever wants to see the tattoos close-up should be very, very careful.

This particular aspect of the staging also opens up a reflection on the problems of reception, the way in which a work of art deploys its meanings, and how the devices for transfer and identification are created between what is depicted and the viewer. There is a component of happening, a theatrical event and a show in all Enrique Marty’s work, which responds to his personal conviction that life is a mere depiction and there is nothing outside this condition. This theatrical component is emphasized by the fact that a large part of his sculptures –in particular those in Art is Dangerous– take up the same physical space that the viewer walks on, transforming it into frontal, solid and immediate realities. The lack of a pedestal, the natural way in which the surfaces of the sculptures are painted and the use of natural hair and clothing endow the installation with a series of reactive elements that are capable of affecting the viewer’s passive status. In this way the true depiction no longer takes place in the exhibition room but rather inside the people who are present at the staging. 

This shortening of distances in painting plays a fundamental role. The chromatic treatment of the surfaces endows these pieces with a powerful physical presence, a dull and anti-heroic materiality that does not conceal the erosion of the flesh or the scars of emotional and moral resistance. The struggle for survival, one’s own in general and that of the artist in particular, leaves traces –above all in the crust of the face– generating a paradoxical effect of unmasking make-up: little stains, premature wrinkles, cracks, lentigos, scars, bruises, bags under the eyes and scratches.

This theatrical component that dominates a large part of Enrique Marty’s work is linked, likewise, to a specific form of managing times. All creation requires a mental time and a time for production, in the same way that all reception requires a duration. As Carmen González points out: “It could be that the time of direct aesthetic experience is complemented by a time of comprehension of this same experience, a differed time that goes deeper into one’s own experience, reviews it and verifies it”. Viewers have to get involved, during the reception of the pieces in Art is Dangerous, in the “temporality that these works of art demand”, and this is where internal depiction is developed. Moreover, in the words of Umberto Eco, these fixed and immobile sculptures require a “time for circumnavigation”, in other words a “physical movement and a mental transition in search of references that help us understand them as a whole”. The walking around, common to many traditions in sculpture, in this case is powerfully conditioned by the threat of the knives, whose presence uproots any kind of naïve or casual approach to the works. In a second phase of navigation –if the first stage is overcome– the viewer should look over the pictorial surface of the sculptures, a slow journey of exploration and discovery through these skins that are saturated in stimuli.

A free interpretation of these works could suggest that all knowledge involves risk, that wisdom is always the fruit of conquest and never inherited, and that only an attitude of vigilance and permanent suspicion, a certain complex of persecution, a chronic neurasthenia, a methodical doubt in the viewer can free him from empty and comfortable readings and thereby save art from the intellectual mediocrity that tries to establish itself in all fields of current cultural dissemination.



Like a soldier on the border

And indeed on each occasion I used to hear something with a heavy, slow step come thudding up the stairs. That I thought must be the Sandman.

E.T.A. Hoffmann.


Marty constantly fixes his attention, reflection and demands on the complex figure of the artist: “If we are going to believe in something”, he says, “we will have to believe in Art and only in Art”. And so it is the artist, as an intuitive and sensitive subject, who is best equipped to approach and survive the dark side of being, the abyss of self-knowledge. For this kind of artist, art has precious little to do with the imitative or merely descriptive depiction of the forces of nature, or with the production of cold objects born of mathematical and cerebral conceptualization. All the opposite –some of Marty’s testimonies reveal a high concept of art: “As a viewer I find myself in a state of permanent tension, a tension of ongoing vigilance against the superstitions of society. I always see myself like those soldiers who guard the border of North Korea, who are always in a state of maximum tension, so firm and alert that their whole body seems like a pure contraction. Their backs face the border, as they are not guarding against people coming into the country, but rather against people leaving it”.

With these words Marty expresses the loss of the awareness of danger in numerous professionals of contemporary art, the disconnection of the artist from the root of all artistic action: the primordial pain, and takes up a position against the cold marketing that nowadays mediates and constrains a large part of the artist’s creative freedom, removing him from the causes that give rise to it and turning him into a mere consumer product, mostly presented empty of all foundational content, dehumanized and useless for the redeeming or social function I referred to above. The artist is no longer “illuminated, unaware of his own magical powers” and has become a simple decorator. 

Nietzsche said: “Yes, what is Dionysian? (…) The question of the Greek’s relation to pain, his degree of sensitivity, is basic (…), the question is whether his ever stronger craving for beauty, for festivals, pleasures, new cults, was rooted in some deficiency, privation, melancholy, pain”. And so we wonder, melancholy for what? Deficiency, privation of what? I would dare to propose a hypothesis: childhood is consecrated as the tragic existential fact par excellence, the root of existential pain, as from this point of view, childhood is the only age in which a person can act under personal, natural and honest ethics, applying his own values, which have not yet been manipulated or dissolved by cultural pressure. A child, in his journey to adulthood, experiences this first kind of vital tragedy when his personal ethics come up against foreign ethics, designed by others and cruelly and violently imposed on him by cultural regulations and moral laws. The first goal of this overcoming, executed through the Dionysian artistic experience, would be to take off the social mask in order to recover at least a part of the state of natural awareness, that of childhood. And yet before the child’s own personality, it is his traits that in essence work under the Dionysian impulse, all of them seminal elements in Enrique Marty’s work: immaturity, fear, drive, excess, games, symbols, imagination, shouting, letting off steam, aggressiveness, the monster and metamorphosis.



The symbol as an entrance point for the mystery

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

Carl Jung.


The formula that enables artists who base their work on an absolutely overwhelming and radical subjectivity, like Goya, James Ensor, Lucian Freud, Louise Bourgeois, Angélica Lidell, Antonin Artaud and Jan Fabre, to overcome the state of pure onanism and extreme self-referencing and become artists of great value is not easy to explain. The truth is that all of them, together with Enrique Marty, take part in a similar way in the perception of shadow and the suspicion that “(art) should give us everything that can be found in love, crime, war and madness if it wishes to become relevant again”. Nietzsche came close to the explanation when he established an alliance between the Apollonian and the Dionysian, as the artist’s Apollonian ego is dissolved thanks to the intervention of Dionysus and his process of deindividualization and purification.

In its archaic period, Greek culture was still a tragic culture, and it was in the creation of tragedy that the Greeks found a means of expressing life in all its complexity, contradictions and harshness. According to Nietzsche’s psychoanalytical diagnosis, the decadence of western culture started when the Apollonian was imposed over the vital force of Dionysus, thereby inverting Silenus’ wisdom and making the harsh background of pre-Socratic pathos with all its beautiful illusory forms invisible. Nietzsche blames this rupture on two simultaneous circumstances: the moment when Euripides, by way of narrative and formal innovation, endows the characters in his work with greater importance than the chorus, eliminating a Dionysian element in favour of moral and intellectual elements, and when, in Parmenides, there is a great leap from the myth to the logos by the imposition of the logic of rational discourse as opposed to the irrational. This trend was eventually configured in Platonism and backed up later by Christianity, which set up a truthful, objective, good, eternal and rational world; a dimension which in any case presented itself as superior and radically opposed to the sphere of the sensitive, the corporal, the temporal, the multiple and the changing. It is the same attack that Antonin Artaud launched on the bourgeois theatre of his time, and in my opinion, the same war that Enrique Marty has declared on numerous professionals of contemporary art, false artists in his opinion, and opportunistic charlatans.

And yet the Apollonian and the Dionysian for the German philosopher did not just represent aesthetical dimensions but rather revealed profound intuitions about reality –“Existence is eternally justified as an aesthetic phenomenon”– and given that artistic creation is to be found in the depths of the human condition, the best way to access knowledge of the human and of nature is through art and not through rational and discursive thought. Without undermining the values of the Apollonian, Nietzsche confronted them with the superior Dionysian values, prematurely announcing one of his most beloved cases, namely preferring the increased quality of life (Dionysian) as opposed to the mere preservation of life (Apollonian), and acting in accordance with this principle. We should not forget that Nietzsche’s life coincided with the decadence of the bourgeois Christian society, with the aid of Puritan morals full of prejudice, and that all his thought is a reaction to this quenching of life. It is, therefore, vitally important to understand that Nietzsche struggled against reason, but only against positivist reason, only against the instrumental reason that subjects people to the rules of bourgeois capitalist logic. The Apollonian, in his reading, is also a liberating power but only desirable if we let ourselves be touched by the Dionysian and vice versa. If we apply the simile of a candle, the Apollonian would be the cold wax, while the Dionysian would be the flame, and it would be just at the base of the wick where the ideal point of balance is achieved: no lower –where the wax remains cold and inert– and no higher –where the fire burns. Freud said that a society that cancels out either pole would be a sick and schizophrenic society; it is always necessary to “extract a certain amount of libido from the person for a sociocultural field to exist”.

Understanding that art is a metaphoric and symbolic language and not a logical one, we should accept the responsibility of returning humanity to an initial and primitive state, a tragic state from where it can build up new fictions, “metaphors free from social control”, because as Jean Chevalier pointed out, a symbol “is not in fact the simple communication of knowledge, it is the convergence of affectivity (…) This is why the symbol is the most efficient instrument for personal, group and international comprehension, leading to its highest intensity and its deepest dimensions”. Symbols, as Marty points out, enable participation in mystery, because they employ a “confusing and blurred language, and the most important revelations should be thus: blurred, confusing and contradictory”. At this point we can verify the alliance between Apollo and Dionysus as the former is the god of prophecy, the one who emits oracular wisdom by means of an “oblique and twisted” language, uttering dark words that have to be interpreted. Dionysus, on the other hand, uses all the symbols of the body, not just verbal language, endowing the sonorous, sensual and visual symbols, and music, dance and images, with special importance.

Symbols, therefore, are capable of transforming the passive viewer into a co-creative agent. This is why art which cancels out the metaphoric and symbolic dimension is completely sterile and futile, just as a “civilization which has no symbols dies out and belongs only to history”.



The superiority of the false

You make your work and you can't ask for approval when you're doing it. Otherwise, it's going to be untruthful in some way.

Michael Gira.


If we follow a solemn and emphatic reading of Enrique Marty’s work, we could conclude that it is all in defence of an art whose ultimate truth resides in the superiority of the false, i.e. in the peerless capacities of symbols, representation, metaphors and drama to unmask social conventions –testimony against the taming of public and private life, the standardization of univocal criteria of truth that separate the normal from the anomalous, the healthy from the sick, the innocuous from the incurable. Or, as shown in his recent projects Failed Sculptures (2017) and Failed Paintings (2017), and in his latest intervention in Ostend –The Raft (2017)– an attack on the dialectics of power that decide which stories can form part of History, which actions and people deserve a public monument and which should be denigrated and vilified for posterity. In this regard we could highlight the fact that all Enrique Marty’s thought is laden with politics, but not politics as you would find in a pamphlet or in the government, but rather in its philosophical formulation, understanding politics as “a network of microscopic, capillary powers”, which tenaciously engender paradigms of knowledge in our most intimate living spaces in order to discipline our social and moral behaviour. The artist therefore has to take on the function of a dragoman for the world. A real artist should be capable of making the invisible visible, of unravelling the complexities of the profoundest realities and giving us a way in to the dismantling of the certainties that society imposes on us. As a dragoman, the artist assumes the magical and sacred task of translating for us what slips through our fingers in the most immediate reading of our daily experience. 

In accordance with this idea of the superiority of the false in art, Enrique Marty shows that certain truths and certain realities can only be made visible through pretence and simulation. By presenting art as simulation, the artist is revealed as a simulator, as somebody who lies, and the artist’s only truth is in his lie: that is his main advantage. Art is simulation and cannot be otherwise, because Art does not create Truth and neither can it express it. Art can only play, lift up veils and show what lies behind. Moreover, there is nothing to suggest that behind the Velo de Maya (Maya Veil) there is a background we could call true; indeed some of Enrique Marty’s installations invite us to reflect along these lines: Niños (Children) (CASA, Salamanca, 2002); Bunker (Espai Quatre, Casal Solleric, Palma de Mallorca, 2003); Incidente en la madriguera (Incident in the Lair) (Galería Espacio Mínimo, Madrid, 2003); Apocalipstick (Galería Espacio Mínimo, Madrid, 2006); and Las Realidades Concretas (Concrete Realities) (Espacio Marzana, Bilbao, 2017). Nietzsche’s stance on this is coherent with his effort to debunk the concept of truth and state: “The hermit (…) tends to believe that behind each cave is another deeper one, a wider world, more distant, richer, an abyss beyond any depth, beyond any abyss”. And this is how we discover that the primary element in the artist’s work  –and in that of the viewer and co-creator– is always to bring about new worlds, to set up new openings. 

Enrique Marty’s experience of the world is to be continually interpreting it, to permanently struggle against what is presented as institutionalized truth. His work is not just anthropology but rather flows directly into a global philosophical vision, the metaphysics of chaos from where he can work unceasingly so that the contemporary public will grant amnesty to the creators of the atavistic black legend and recover a desire to visit museums, art galleries and artists’ workshops. 



Paloma Pájaro. Salamanca, 2017.


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