JAVIER PIVIDAL
VISUAL ARTS
Cartagena 1971. He combines his artistic activity with the management and edition of editorial projects with graphic creation.
He has shown his works in spaces such as SCAN Project Room in London, The Whitebox Gallery of New York, Magazin 4 of Bregenz, Austria, or the Cervantes Institute of Naples, among others. His latest shows were the solo exhibition ¿Por qué durar es mejor que arder? (Why is going on better than burning?) in the Sala Verónicas of Murcia, the collective exhibition No se escribe, luminosamente, sobre un campo oscuro (One doesn’t write, with much illumination, about a dark field) in the José Guerrero Centre of Granada or the project Mia anima nera (My black soul) for the Blueproject Foundation of Barcelona, as part of the collective The Perfect Lover. In 2018 he does the performance El Intruso together with Manuel Rodríguez, with whom he returns to collaborate in 2020 in Cenere, as part of a project which he does in the Spanish Academy in Rome. His work is part of different private and public collections including: CA2M, MUSAC, Caja Rural of Jaén, Ankaria Foundation, The Museum of the Spanish Print Foundation, CAM Foundation or the ICARM Collection.
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In 1975 Fabio Mauri did the performance Intellettuale, in which he projects his own film Il vangelo secondo Matteo on the chest of Pier Paolo Pasolini. The loud sound in relation to the small size of the projection produces a novelty experience in filming. In a specific moment of the action and worried about the lack of movement in his friend, Mauri comes close and asks him if he is fine. Pasolini is ecstatic. Once in a while he moves his head to be able to observe the potent ray of light on his chest.
In October of that same year and a few days before his death, Pasolini participates in a similar experience. The photographer Dino Pedriali did a photo session at his country home in Chia. The house opened into nature through its enormous windows. When it became dark, the photographer asked him to undress in his bedroom while he went outside. The humidity of the evening made the aroma of the nearby bay trees more intense. There was also an enormous mimosa tree.
Pasolini took a book and sat to read, openly revealing his sex. The photographer, protected by the dark, shot his camera on the over-exposed body of the writer. The light silhouetted the figure of his naked body in the middle of the night. It looked like a firefly.
On November 3, 1975, in a field close to Ostia, a blood-stained shirt of Pasolini’s appeared. The police confirmed that the shirt smelled of salt and tabacco, of patchouli and of rusty rose.
Van a olvidar nuestros nombres (They shall forget our names)
con el tiempo nadie sabrá lo que hicimos (In time nobody will know what we did)
nuestra vida pasará como el rastro de una nube y quedará desperdigada como el rocío al que siguen los rayos del sol (Our life will go by as the trail of a cloud and will end up scattered as the dew that follows the rays of sun)
nuestro tiempo es una sombra que pasa y nuestras vidas se propagarán como chispas en el rastrojo. (Our time is a passing shadow, and our lives will go out as sparks in the brush)
Derek Jarman, Croma, 1994
Hold your eyelids tightly closed. Close your eyes first and squeeze. After a second, open them and blink. The bright dots and the sparkle will last less than the pain.
It’s been a long time now that I haven’t heard your breathing, but I remember it perfectly. Your body now executes choreographic movements that nobody understands. What are you trying to tell me? Sometimes, your face comes out of the darkness and looks deeply into me.
I now know what loneliness is: loneliness is the distance between you and I. Loneliness is 1971 km. 9 metro stops. 40 days.
I dreamt of you for years. I saw you coming out of the sea and returning home. The image of your naked body is printed in my memory. Everything is seen by me through that body. All is body. Memory is constructed by images that remain on my skin. Memories last forever, contrary to flowers.