Lidia Massllorens

Caldes de Malavella, Girona 1967 Look, search, find Get up. Have a coffee to know that the world is warm when my hands hold the cup. Walk slowly without stopping: hands in my pockets and heart beating slowly. Arrive at the workshop. Open the front door with a key and a sharp kick with my foot. Close it and open another. Enter the workshop: towering horses made of iron, asbestos and polystyrene sheets: attempts to isolate what cannot be isolated. Step forward, walk towards 117 the heater and light it. Check if there are enough pellets. Add more, if necessary. Go to the desk, turn on the computer. Check my email: warm up my fingers; check Instagram: warm up my heart. Get changed: pyjama bottoms, thick socks, warm jumper. See the old Barceló in the background. Look around. See the work from three days ago. Look at it again, out of the corner of my eye. Move towards to another from two days ago. Touch it. Check if it is dry. Lift it off the floor, once piece at a time: one, two, three, four, five and six. Load the stapler. Staple it on the board, piece by piece: one, two, three, four, five and six. Step backwards. Look at it. And again. Approach it, then step back from it. Forward and backward. Look and look again. Think. Half close my eyes, focus on the painting once again. Focus on one point. Stay calm for a moment. Look at it all again, ... show more

Caldes de Malavella, Girona 1967 Look, search, find Get up. Have a coffee to know that the world is warm when my hands hold the cup. Walk slowly without stopping: hands in my pockets and heart beating slowly. Arrive at the workshop. Open the front door with a key and a sharp kick with my foot. Close it and open another. Enter the workshop: towering horses made of iron, asbestos and polystyrene sheets: attempts to isolate what cannot be isolated. Step forward, walk towards 117 the heater and light it. Check if there are enough pellets. Add more, if necessary. Go to the desk, turn on the computer. Check my email: warm up my fingers; check Instagram: warm up my heart. Get changed: pyjama bottoms, thick socks, warm jumper. See the old Barceló in the background. Look around. See the work from three days ago. Look at it again, out of the corner of my eye. Move towards to another from two days ago. Touch it. Check if it is dry. Lift it off the floor, once piece at a time: one, two, three, four, five and six. Load the stapler. Staple it on the board, piece by piece: one, two, three, four, five and six. Step backwards. Look at it. And again. Approach it, then step back from it. Forward and backward. Look and look again. Think. Half close my eyes, focus on the painting once again. Focus on one point. Stay calm for a moment. Look at it all again,

with my mind. Become engrossed, from zero to infinity. That is enough! Turn on the radio to clear my mind. In the noise I find redemption from my doubts. Go to the ream of paper. Pick up the sheets. Cut them in the cutter. Pick up the stapler. Staple the papers on the board at the back of the workshop. In the meantime, think. Work mechanically and think. Place the plastic on the paper. Turn on the projector to show the lines. Trace the lines of a face. Find the lines of an eye, the lips, a nostril. Stand back and look. Return to the chin. Draw it. Step out of myself, one step further so the same thing as always does not happen. Fearless. Take off the plastic and put it on the floor. Staple it on the floor, on the wooden support. Return to the paper and look for the darkened areas. Search. 118 Subtle greys, diluted blacks. Discoloured whites. Shining. Try to find the missing link in the chain. Look at the white and the black and search beyond it. Find paths for merging. Half close my eyes and look from the chair. And look again. Search. Decompose and recompose with my gaze. Leave my comfort zone, of the blackness. Open up to the colour. Imagine it. Touch up a shade near one eye. Make it calmer. Or stronger, if required. Go to the fridge and drink some juice. Sit down and look at nothing. Ponder about change. The shape. The colour. Seek the synthesis, the border of the line. Figure and abstraction. See it yet not achieve it. Try and achieve the minimum in order to express the maximum. Remove and replace. Remove. Maximalist minimalism. From nothing to everything. And the opposite. Eat a sandwich to keep going. Return to the plastic. Prepare cloths and brooms. And pots of black. And colour. Wet. Stretch the painting. Draw the hair on the plastic with an emphatic gesture of my body. On the fine lines of the forehead. On the cheeks. On the delicate neck. On the eyes, that fade. Stroke over it with the old broom, create white spaces. Stand back and observe. Return with the cloth which dirties, and cleans. Repeat the same action time and time again. Know in your mind where you want to go but not always able to make it happen technically. Know what you want but not always able to solve it… Be alert and see the path. Manage to detach yourself from what is unnecessary. Return to the paper. Wet it with splashes of water. Remove a piece of paper and stretch it out, like laundry, over the space in the plastic where 119 it needs to be. Lovingly and delicately. Once, twice, three, four, five and six times. A religious communion: paper, paint and plastic. And commend oneself to the alchemy as someone commends themselves to a saint. Or to the chemistry. Or to chance… Turn off the radio. Put out the heater. Clean the brushes, wash my hands. Breathe deeply to retune body and mind. Get changed. Open a door and close it. Open the front door and close it. Six hours later return to the street. Stroll towards the Coma, Llet street and Firal. And three days later, find some panting lips, eyes with a sparkle of restlessness, sweetness, happiness… Discover life in the paper.