This piece of artwork is a part of a huge exhibition called Diàlegs amb Roser López Monsó. Roser was a Terrassa's artist, my own city, she left us the last year and the curator wanted to made an exhibition as a present.
I was one of the guest artists chosen for make a dialogue between one piece of her and a new of mine. I try to dialgue with some of her poems and it was the result. Her words became in birds flying at the half of the way between the earth and the sky confusing the land, the departure, the rocks and the verses.
I read Roser's poems as a loop, phrases that growing up in my hands and knitting fingers,
they anchore,
y se anclan,
in rocks with demonims, rummaging in the earth, turning to breathe while my legs don't answer me, and my numb knees nerves. They figger out hope in the root, a root that ravel her feet, and became lichen in a industrializaded Terrassa.
Stand up, open the wings and fly, at the half way, refusing a hurtful sky, that remember her my lines,
feeling the ascending gravity which she fights.
I leave alone the words, for becaming a book that is born with the destruction, taking her universe for plant a tree, the house of her birds. And a stick connect and divide us, between the poetical and the factual.
My own text in the exhibition book
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