| Introduction to Cocomir By Carlos Arean (At the time of writing Director of the Spanish Museum of Contemporary Art) December 1984 |
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 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, (Costa Brava). 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, Multiple 427-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. |