|Introduction to Cocomir
(At the time of writing Director of the
Spanish Museum of Contemporary Art)
|Cocomir is born in
Talarn, (Llérida), in 1931.
1952 - Lives and works in Brazil, Japan, Timor, and Mauritania.
1965 - Moves his residence to London where he teaches and works.
1970 - Constructs his studio "El Geroglifico" in La Fosca,
From 1976 on he lives in Italy forming part of the Libera Universita
Europea delle Arti.
Permanent works: Sapone-Nice, Verrier-Lyon, Grifon-Paris, Ausonia-Menton, Arte
Structura-Milan, La Botega D'Arte-Vicenza, Espace Maesta-Pescara, Espace
Maesta-Milan, Espace Maesta-Maceratta, Tom Maddeck-Barcelona, Seiquer-Madrid,
It is fortunate for Catalunya, that her great triumphing masters, living beyond
our borders always end up returning to their country. First it was Miró
and Dalí, and a little later, the extraordinary non-imitative and
neofigurative constellation of artists. It turns out that in this manner the
school of Barcelona can influence the world, not only through occasional
personalities, lost amongst the skyscrapers and boulevards, but also as a
coherent and compact whole. Now it is COCOMIR who returns, and he does it after
his successes in London, and at a time in which his work, after having passed
through pain and desperation, acquires new meaning and gets purified through
its intention to pay homage to those who may deserve it most.
This great artist who is COCOMIR, this moulder and refiner of form, in whose
fingers the lessons of Moore palpitate and in whose depths the remembrance of
the English master formed an alliance with the memory of his fellow countryman
Julio Gonzalez, also knows that it is only through the perfection of form that
a work of art is served by a personalized and difficult craft, becoming valid
as an emotionally moving document and artistic expression. An art that is not
eminent in such is just as much a document as the best of those possible, but
it is cold, without inciting us to try to unravel anything more than is
narrated by its own impotence. An art that is polished, exact, subject to norm
and number, but with this not being too obvious, instead enfolding itself in
softness and organic curves until the air quivers curled up in a hollow or
harmonizes in it's sudden cracks and fissures with our own possible anxieties,
that art is, seen in abstract, as much a document, no more no less, as the one
that lacks this ultimate possibility of indescribable communication, but at the
same time it will require that we collaborate with the author in a manner much
more profound than simply assembling and disassembling pieces and in this way
it will be much more truthful in its ultimate implications. This ultimate
truthfulness will be provided by the spectators, but we will be able to do it
only when the author, as it happens in this paradigmatic case with COCOMIR, has
shaped the pieces in such a way that with their own perfection and authenticity
they are capable of touching us, not only on the superficial sensitivity of the
skin, but also in the deepest furrows of our intelligence and love.
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