Tiempos del nunca

Jim Amaral

19 February - 02 April, 2015

Jim Amaral: The Visionary
Excerpt from an essay by Gonzalo Márquez Cristo

Whoever approaches Jim Amaral’s artistic universe initially encounters a horde of cosmic travelers that has decided to eternalize itself in his bronzes, but departing from the imaginary alien being, it confronts a legion of the tortured and persecuted, and the victims of isolation and silence. 

His creations could emanate from the sidereal future but more exactly they are the proof of a source of time —lost in the mist of our past—, pursued at the mercy of the contraptions of dreams: an exercise which bequeaths us the prodigious return to the infancy of the image, and of course, to the dawn of rites. 

The artist tends hopelessly to the return of a cosmic dialogue, his images are imbued with an unfathomable mutism and although they sometimes exhibit enigmatic messages tattooed on their skin in a language not yet invented, they always hold —tremblingly—, the certainty that the urgent response will never be produced. 

It is not the archaic, as the critics have repeatedly said, that the sculptor tries to materialize, rather it is the inaugural startlement. It is not the ancient but the first conception that is manifested... If there were a prophecy of origin —an augury of the first heartbeat, a backwards vaticination—, we would have to resort to these sculptural visions in our attempt to elucidate it. 

It is in visceral associations that Amaral’s art bursts into being, in the basic forms of the unconscious where his unsubmissive imagination navigates, because there the magical founds his most fertile space. These vigilant totems that have made thwarted wings from their arms and roots from their feet, compose a sculptural territory that has been continuously configured since 1989, with unique edition pieces, since the author is a radical critic of our falsified world. 

The illusion of movement vitalizes his imperturbable bronze creations: opening the doors of their chest a secret calligraphy suggests to us an astral communication, turning the wheels that assist their legs we learn that displacement is a mirage, gazing on the skin of a torso we evince a vegetative germination, and it is almost always easy to detect the bloody itinerary that drives these metallic inventions to the shape of an obsession. 

An hieratic iconography imposes the ductility of the time. His figures acquire by the spell of art a millennial existence and the strength that totemizes them reveals an insatiable cosmic hunger, and it could be thought that in their vertical flight they intone a prayer to the Milky Way or to Nothingness, or perhaps to a God that will never come... 

Frequently we surprise his anthropomorphic beings in a mutation into birds or creatures that drink light, and on singular occasions, we see numerous branches blooming from their bodies. Since the work of Amaral is the apology of an unfinished metamorphosis, it is the projection of the self to its limit, sometimes provoked by fateful impulses and other times by inner perseverance, by the colossal effort to reach a galactic transcendence. 

 

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