Work of Art

Our daily life is made of memories, of unfinished ideas, of spaces which we continuously cross in the same way, and it is made of smells and colors that inhabit us and that we inhabit, of places we recognize without looking at them, of transits and looks that become possessions and images, and give us consistency. Our life is a body of multiple and imaginary relations, a framework which comprises and, equally, unites ideals, fruits, desires and suits. Oly Diaz continually discover this daily world that surrounds us and shapes us, with a know-how that allows her to make presence, to show -and show us- the tissue on which our desires, our intentions and our thoughts are founded and melted. She makes it a presence in works that refuse definite understanding, in which the color- free line, and the decided disposition of the brush-strokes are linked together with a permanent reconstruction work thanks to which each work always hides previous works, other instants, other moments. She links in this way the passing of her own everyday nature -of her own places- to make with each work a composition which does not belong to a period but to memory, to the articulated conjugation of what has been lived, of what has been said and which in that measure, is always as incomprehensible as desire. She thus creates fragmentary works, composed of pieces and parts, of cuts and old presences. Works made by recomposing, joining again, repainting, keeping up, opening from each form done a new form, unthought-of until that instant. And she makes it turning to the simplicity that surrounds her, to the materials with which she lives or which she has, to the visions that are familiar to her, to the encounters which for being permanent are unnoticed by others. That is why her works can, in their variety, be analogous to the plurality of the objects with we live; that is why they can, in their oddness, be analogous to our commonest possessions, our most ordinary rituals, reason for which they can in their closeness, make us always think there is something that escapes us because it is close” Sandra Pinardi.

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