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CANDOR march 13 - april 25, 2009
  • Untitled. CA1

    Untitled. CA1, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 60 x 90 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled. CA2

    Untitled. CA2, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 60 x 90 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled. CA3

    Untitled. CA3, 2007

    From the installation lamps of prayer. Duratrans photograph, Light box, 50 x 75 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled. CA4

    Untitled. CA4, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 60 x 90 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled

    Untitled, 2008

    Video loop, 6' 13''

  • Untitled

    Untitled, 2008

    Video sculpture, variable dimensions.

  • Untitled

    Untitled, 2008

    Video sculpture, variable dimensions.

  • Untitled. CA5

    Untitled. CA5, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 60 x 90 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Mobiliario de la inocencia (detail)

    Mobiliario de la inocencia (detail), 2008

    Photography installation of cubes, variable dimensions. 35 x 35 x 35 cm. each. Ed.5 + AP

  • Mobiliario de inocencia

    Mobiliario de inocencia, 2008

    Photography installation of cubes, variable dimensions. 35 x 35 x 35 cm. each. Ed.5 + AP

  • Mobiliario de inocencia

    Mobiliario de inocencia, 2008

    Photography installation of cubes, variable dimensions. 35 x 35 x 35 cm. each. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled. CA6

    Untitled. CA6, 2008

    Duratrans print on methacrylate, lightbox, 50 x 50 x 30 cm.

  • Untitled. CA10

    Untitled. CA10, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 80 x 120 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled. CA11

    Untitled. CA11, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 100 x 150 cm. Ed.5 + AP

  • Untitled. CA12

    Untitled. CA12, 2008

    Analogue photography on aluminium, 100 x 150 cm. Ed.5+AP

  • Lámparas de plegaria

    Lámparas de plegaria, 2008

    Duratrans print on methacrilate, lightbox. Installation, variable dimensions.

  • Lámparas de plegaria (detail)

    Lámparas de plegaria (detail), 2008

    Duratrans print on methacrilate, lightbox. 30 x 63 x 30 cm.

  • Ghost Painting 103 (after Volpi)

    Ghost Painting 103 (after Volpi) , 2013

    Acrilyc asnd adhesive paint on canvas. 33 x 24 cm.

  • Ghost Painting 106 (after Carmen Herrera)

    Ghost Painting 106 (after Carmen Herrera), 2013

    Acrilyc and adhesive paint on canvas. 46 x 38 cm.


With “Candor”, Luis Amavisca builds a story that spins around a universal theme, and for this, he starts from a very close and specific case. He succeeds transcending and, thus, making that the message get to all of us, by avoiding the humorous and preserving only the essential.

The story starts developing with the first photograpgh in the room and grows gradually in an evermore dramatic and intense tone until the visitor gets to the video-sculpture that can be seen at the entrance, a piece that actually marks the end of the story. The estructure is tidy and sharp, based on the infallible Aristotelian progressive rule: introduction-exposition-denouement. Thus, the viewer may see how the main character, a woman, subjected to the unbearable pressure of her environment, passes through the phases of a profound emotional crisis, which goes from resignation-assumption, becoming aware of her reality, reification, rebeliousness, and self imprisonment, to the disappearence, the invisivility, the dissolution in the total white, the void . The sensorial ascepsis to which she appears subjected and to which she had been led, notwisthstanding the reactions experienced, contrasts with the sharp emotion felt by the viewer and caused by its strong cathartic effect.

The word “candor” brings to our mind two different meanings that, instead, make reference one to another. The status of absolute naivety, completely void of any malice, should resemble the unspotted, pure one that preceded the original sin, and which finds itself depicted in immaculate whiteness, and related to clarity and light - the photographs are printed on aluminium, which increases this light effect, and are purposely dominated by white and sepia. Thomas of Aquino considers that beauty requires, among other things, integrity and brightness, and that, just as the Platonian aphorism says, beauty involves generosity and all the way round – The Banquet. According to Dionysus Aeropagus and Juan Escoto, light derives from the good and portrays kindness. In his “Fall of the Middle Ages”, Huizinga analyzes thoroughly the relation between brightness and Good, darkness and Evil, a relation inherited from the zoroatrian medieval Scholastic through Greece, Rome, christianity and then assimilated by Western Europe as a personal discovery. It is this relation gives birth to the interpretation of the white colour as the symbol of kindness, ultimate truth, regeneration of the soul, access to a new life, but also a symbol of purity, virginity, peace, harmony. Mircea Eliade mentions in one of his works that the white (colour) symbolizes, in the initiation rituals, the colour of the first phase - that of the fight against death.

The first meaning of the use of white in Luis Amavisca´s exhibition, although not the only one, alludes to that ingenousness, to that innocence void of any malevolece or evil of the main character: the woman whose naked body is solely covered in a white dust, which talks about her condition and points out to her vulnerability. The other character, – omitted – the society, brings to light a whole new meaning, very different from that of the white colour. It is a meaning of the aseptic spaces that perpetuate a domination model, a model of exclusion of the different, of the minorities, of the weak, a system of social division that makes room for spatial segregation, through which they (the minorities) find themselves in environments where decision and prestige mechanisms have no place – J.M.G. Cortés. This marginalisation transforms them into “absent bodies”, almost invisible, and this represents, for many of them, a cause of frustration that ends up in anxiety or another type of emotional distress.
In his “Essay on blindness”, Saramago disguises as “white blindness” the general madness of the society, a society that looks without actually watching.

Feminity has always been put aside from the power centres, as a consequence of those historically drawn spatial divisions, in order to fit in the gender defined dual opposition relations model. José Miguel G. Cortés´s analysis is being confirmed by Foucault´s affirmation that the small, the daily, the “unimportant”, remains totally submerged under the power of the great topics and the political transcending discourses, which, in turn, forget about the structures and rules that organize and govern daily life.

The woman covered in white dust exhibits her innocence, but her light “attire” also suggests her positioning in those - emotionally and physically speaking -marginal, left behind places. Her locking behind the white tied sheet is very relevant – and evokes madness. Emily Dickinson decided to dress up in white and withdrew to a village house, action that brougt her the qualification of an alienated woman.

A lot of other women have denied to fulfill the role pre-assigned to the feminine condition, a role imposed not solely by men but condemned and denounced by many of them. Most of these courageous and passionate women have defied conventionalities and rules – symbolized here by the lipstick and the pathetic red make-up of the mouth suggesting a bite – that were suffocating them, and instead adopted “extravagant” attitudes, showing themselves just as they were and venturing into the “politically incorrect” experiences. Most of these women joined the ranks of the hospital rooms where cases of hysteria were studied, an illness traditionally considered to be of women exclusively and, for this reason, with a double pejorative meaning. This was curiously signaled at the end of the XIXth century, when the feminist movement succeeded to enter the public debate forums. One such famous forum was that of La Salpetriere where Charcot – father of neurology – explained the inadecuacy of the term, as hysteria was an illness suffered by men also, and claimed the dignity of the women affected by it, including the “post mortem” diagnose of Saint Theresa (of Avila).

Luis Amavisca pays tribute to the tormented women by dedicating to them a sort of an altarpiece conceived as a combination of three light boxes hanging down from the ceiling and holy cards scattered on the ground.

Translation by Cristina Tanasse


© 2011 Isabel Hurley