23OV_Olor de Málaga-16

Juan Olivares
Cabalgata de aromas, 2010
'Seventeen different blends in order to
capture that smell, ethereal and sharp,
I was close, I almost managed it with
a violet, I was nearly there with an intense
orange and on the border of a parrot
green that never stopped going out
of tune I thought it was mine.
'It came as a surprise and evaporated as
it had come, leaving a cavalcade of aromas
on my palette…'
Antoni Muntadas
RCD#1 (Serie Protocolli Veneziani I),
2013
‘… Its waters have shaped the city with
a to-ing and fro-ing that determines
his life, and with their smell, which impregnates
everything …’ (from Protocolli
Veneziani I)
Enric Pladevall
L'olor de l'alba, 1996
In Catalan, alba is a type of wood, poplar,
but it is also the first brightening
of day. The light breaks on the horizon
and splashes with white the black
of the night that vanishes. Reality has
multiple appearances, and knowing and
feeling its subtle shades stimulates and
sharpens the senses.
The poplar tree has a smell and when it
is cut it is as if we were treading the still
dewy earth of daybreak.
The sculpture is hollow inside and has
holes through which the smell of the
poplar can be enjoyed. The power of attraction,
the sensuality, the strength
and the impossibility of arriving at a
total knowledge and understanding of
a work of art is what I am trying to express,
to suggest.
Daniel Silvo
After glásnost, 2011
From the viscosity of a black fluid there
emanate poisonous vapors that penetrate
the lungs and cause discomfort.
They almost make you want to throw
up, and you turn your face away. A reflex
that identifies sight with smell: if
you don’t see it, you don’t smell it. And
a handkerchief protects your nose from
the unhealthy stench. The transparency
and cleanness, the freshness of the
glass did not last long. It was little more
than an intention. Once more the opacity
and the stench of corruption that day
after day accumulate on themselves.
Antonio Tocornal
Herbario o "(020423)", 1992
Forgotten childhood
woven of absent memories.
But at times
the smell of a scrunch of old paper
brings back to me that book
made of dried flowers
words in Latin.
And the dusty smell
of eternal oak
in the damp, dark library.
Joana Cera
S/T (serie Terra), 2013
If the earth were always wet
Licked earth, soaked earth
Fragrant earth
As it is
Pure geometry in disguise
Always latent
Always expressing itself
Generous merciless Mother
Pure essential poetry
Gauntly incarnate
Concentrically centred
Seed of the Universe
Cultivated in the void
Of an ellipse
Carlos Bunga
Untitled, 2011
c(olour) odour
1. n. Impression produced by light rays
reflected by a body onto the retina of
the eye: the c(olour) odour of the skin.
2. Pigment or other substance with
which colour is applied: lip c(olour) odour .
3. The arrangement and intensity of the
c(olours) odours , c(oloured) odoured : the c(olour)
odour of a picture.
4. Timbre or tonal quality of a sound:
the c(olour) odour of her voice.
5. Peculiar or distinctive character of a
thing or style: a description rich in c(olour)
odour .
6. A shade of political opinion or ideology:
a government of a single c(olour) odour .
7. pl. Symbols and c(olours) odours characteristic
of a sporting association or
club, which appear on its flag or emblems
and, by extension, the association
or club itself: defending their c(olours)
odours .
8. to give c(olour) to something. To
paint it.
Thomas Werner
S/T, 2013
In the forest of the green disc
The scent of resin hangs in the air
Muted glow – nose in the wind
This linseed oil – glue – and dammar
resin
My aphrophysiac
From further already and then
from somewhere in the studio
And then to open
The yellow pot
Oh heavenly smell
Bound and surrounded
Set in the frame
Finally
The faint idea
And the memory
As my madeleine
Herbert Hamak
Mil Flores, 2015
Thousands of flowers or thousands of
flowers. The inciter of this series of images
was the little coloured glass beads
from the glassworks of Venice. These
colourful products even became a parallel
currency in Black Africa, and in the
worst cases a few of these beads was
the price of a slave.
On the other hand, that name now designates
a large number of flowers, even
a whole meadow of flowers, and thus
the spectacular gardens of the wise.
These flowers are synonymous with
intoxicating aromas.
Each one of us can find the aromas
stored in nostalgia with the Millefiori.
Images are guides for dreams and meditation.
Helmut Dorner
Gelbe Beine, 2006
The Walk
You, beautiful forests
painted on the green slope,
where I walk sometimes
compensated with sweet peace
for every thorn in my heart,
how sombre for me is the sense,
for art and sense were Pain,
from the beginning.
Sweet images of the valley,
such as gardens and tree
and the path, too, narrow,
the stream barely visible,
how beautiful it shines for someone,
in the clear distance,
the great image of the landscape
I visit, on the auspicious days!
Divinity, friendly,
does not primarily escort
with blue; then with clouds
disposed, vaulted and grey,
with ardent flashes
and the heavy sound of thunder,
with the charm of the landscape,
with beauty, streaming forth
from the fountain of the ancient,
from the primitive image.
Javier Campano
Las cinco y tú, 2004
At dusk.
The music is not heard.
A light from a window
and its aroma.
It's five and you.
Toni Catany
Natura morta amb llimona, 1995
Here is a Mallorcan rose and a lemon,
and their AROMAS, which the sun of
the islands has made more intense.
Maggie Cardelus
Birthday flowers, 2006
My experience of smell during the making
of Birthday flowers was strong, going
from the sweet scent of fresh Spring
blooms to a wafting of decay and stagnant
water. My experience of watching
the flowers over seven days translated
into changes I would make in the room,
as though the room were responding to
the flowers' provocation. They communicate
with one another through me. It
was not my intent to convey specifically
a sense of smell, but one of empathy
between things, between the vase of
flowers and the room. Naturally, smell
was integral to the flowers and so integral
to how I responded through the
room. How much this is understood by
the viewer is unclear to me.
Riitta Päiväläinen
Spindle, "River notes" series, 2014
Alone, in the remote forest, I am gazing
into the eye of the water spring. Air is
filled with moist as if it would start to
rain soon. I am embraced by the sweet
odour of clean freshness. I am staring
enchanted how the structures at the
sandy bottom of the spring are constantly
altering. Crystal clear water
wells up from the unknown depths and
brings up the sudden smell of sulphur.
It was early morning when I found the
spring. Was it coincidence or faith that
I had with me a roll of ribbon with similar
colour to the sandy bottom of the
spring? I started gently entwine the ribbon
around the branches of spruce. The
familiar fragrance of pitch and evergreen
needles made me feel like home.
The shape of the ribbon reminds me
of a gigantic, rare forest flower, which
shines in the darkness. Its peculiar
odour spreads into faraway places;
invites forest animals to drink from
the spring during the dry seasons.
The shape of the installation was not
planned before. I created it by following
the conditions, the terms of nature
and it was modified by my unconscious
mind.
I am waiting for hours for the perfect
moment to shoot the image; the beam
of the sun to touch the centre of my installation.
The odour of pure water is
mixed with dark, deep, earthy smells.
On the forest floor the dead plants
are decaying, turning into soil. The
rich smell of mud, moss, and mouldering
leave under my boots, trigger
my memory. Suddenly I am in another
time and space.
I am a child. I pick up yellow and red autumn
leaves of aspen. I stand on the
small river and set the leaves free for
adventure. The smell of autumn surrounds
me. I am one with nature.
Lorenzo Cambín
Spazio, 2011
The sculptural landscape smells of wet
clay and the spirit of the leaves. Its
tremulous, slender, moving forms conjure
up the smell of nature and its natural
and abstract landscapes. These imaginary
vegetations, whose leaves are
articulated through metallic threads,
allow movements and oscillations that
give rise to the aromas of memory, the
aromas of our memories.
The roots, sunk in the earth, spread
smells through infinity.
Joan Hernández Pijuan
Flor sobre blanc, 1988
I have always painted flowers. I like
them and I feel good with them. What
is more, they are also the starting point
for many of my works. I have always
found in them fusion of space, color and
smell. That simplicity of the drawing of
the natural form, the way that form
draws and penetrates into space. And
yesterday as I was driving back from
Madrid, the marvel of the almond trees
against the dark brown of the wet earth
on the outskirts of Calatayud.
Anna Malagrida
S/T (abstracta blanca mar vertical),
2007
The windows mute,
the memories of sand,
the smell absent.
Slowly the trace in the depths of the
gaze.
Julião Sarmento
Plant red frame, 2011
We begin by imagining the atmosphere
and the smell. In the evocation of what
is not within sight the sense of desire is
set in motion. The plants become an image
of the force of nature that shows itself
by hiding, we perceive only the exteriority
that is revealed, that emerges,
the modesty of the branches seems to
have been drawn, their silence and
their perfume invoke the feminine, an
organic world in transformation.
Lola Guerrera
Rostro marchito, 2012
A still life with a woman's face.
A cluster of petals that envelops us in
an ephemeral fragrance.
The olfactory sensation of constant
change.
The transience of beauty and the tension
of time...
An attempt at conservation as if it were
alchemy...
All we have left is the memory of the
fragrance of those roses...
Alberto Corazón
Cesto con azul prusia, 2014
This Basket with Prussian Blue makes
allusion to Caravaggio's Basket of Fruit,
a small canvas that has never left the
Pinacoteca Ambrosiana in Milan and
has, for me, a very powerful energy.
And a magnetic attraction. I've been
prowling around it for two years now
without exhausting its capacity to inspire
me.
I have my studio in the middle of a garden,
with large trees and plants that
change over the course of the year.
In Madrid in autumn, the sweet smell
of the honeysuckle contrasts at dusk
with the soft acidity of a false jasmine.
Almost odourless, the intense Prussian
blue of a large mulberry tree, shaken by
the pecking of thrushes and finches.
Enrique Brinkmann
Olor, 1999
SMELL is a picture that sets out to represent
smell.
Smell, together with music, creates
sensations that are totally abstract. It
seems evident that the representation
of these in painting would have to be
reflected in abstraction.
Music and painting are near relations.
There is an infinity of music that make
reference to paintings, and an infinity
of paintings based on music scores.
But what about smell and smells?
By way of some mechanism that and
don’t understand, a smell always
evokes the image of the thing it comes
from, or a sensation of existential recollection.
The smell of jasmine transmits the image
of the jasmine, or of a certain night
in a courtyard full of jasmines, and not