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Plensa, the art of asking for silence

The Barcelona-born artist is displaying a group of sculptures and drawings at the Senda gallery until February. He says they have a “hyperpositive” message that focus attention on the “vibration” of body and thought

“I’m not sure I have to do work that addresses the pandemic” “More than silence, it asks us to speak in whispers to calm the shrieks of society”

Jaume Plensa is very upset with Barcelona. “I don’t feel she’s mine. She’s going through a pe­riod of self-de­nial, as if she has lost in­ter­est in her­self. I’m lucky to live in Sant Just Desvern, that saves me,” said the sculp­tor last month at the Senda Gallery, where he is ex­hibit­ing a set of sculp­tures and draw­ings until Feb­ru­ary 6.

This same venue on Barcelona’s Car­rer Trafal­gar or­gan­ised an ex­hi­bi­tion for Plensa in 2016, which saw his reap­pear­ance after being ab­sent from Barcelona for many years. “We did a bit of test­ing to see if peo­ple re­mem­bered me,” jokes Plensa, but with a hu­mour that ex­udes the strained re­la­tion­ship he main­tains with the city where he was born in 1955.

A year after that ex­hi­bi­tion, in 2017, Barcelona’s Mu­seum of Con­tem­po­rary Art, Macba, took on the first re­vi­sion of his work two decades after the first one de­voted to him by the Miró Foun­da­tion. “I think it was the most vis­ited ex­hi­bi­tion in the 25-year his­tory of the Macba,” he says. In fact, it re­ceived more than 150,000 vis­i­tors and there were even queues in Plaça dels Àngels, which was un­heard for this mu­seum. But was he re­ally happy about it? The gallery owner, Car­los Duran, gives us the an­swer: “The con­clu­sion we drew from this is the pub­lic’s unan­i­mous de­sire to see an ex­hi­bi­tion by Plensa.” Not want­ing to delve fur­ther into it, the artist sim­ply says he “com­pletely agrees”.

Past con­flicts

Plensa has had many dis­agree­ments over the years, one of the most frus­trat­ing being the can­cel­la­tion of his pub­lic sculp­ture pro­ject on the beach at Barceloneta. The work was com­mis­sioned by for­mer mayor Xavier Trias. The model was ready, but the next mayor, Ada Colau, ruled it out straight away and it has never been dis­cussed again. The piece was to be more than 50 me­tres high, al­most as tall as the Colum­bus mon­u­ment.

The dis­dain for Plensa from his na­tive city is not repli­cated in other parts of the world. He is now busy with a 22-metre work, one of his iconic head sculp­tures, which will be erected in New Jer­sey, on a pier on the Hud­son River. “It will be a trib­ute to water,” he says. In fact, it should have been un­veiled in Oc­to­ber, but the coro­n­avirus cri­sis has post­poned that until April.

How has the pan­demic af­fected his work? “It hasn’t changed me as an artist at all. I’m not sure I have to do work that ad­dresses the pan­demic, I have to think about my work as I see it, which is try­ing to in­clude a very deep hu­man­is­tic con­tent that also em­braces the pan­demic. The pan­demic is one more ex­pe­ri­ence. Art has to tran­scend your time, it can’t be the jour­nal­ism of the day.” Plensa cites the Senda Gallery ex­hi­bi­tion as an ex­am­ple be­cause, al­though it brings to­gether pieces cre­ated be­fore the cri­sis, “they were con­ceived with a de­sire for look­ing in­wards.” “If any­thing pos­i­tive has come out of this pan­demic, it’s that it’s cre­ated the feel­ing of look­ing in­wards. We have in­ter­nalised our­selves a lot,” he adds.

The artist sees the ex­hi­bi­tion as “a song to si­lence”. He de­scribes a con­stant in his work as “the lit­eral fab­ri­ca­tion of si­lence to be able to hear the vi­bra­tion of your own body and your thoughts. If you don’t know your­self, it’s very dif­fi­cult for you to get to know oth­ers.” The cen­tre­piece, Minna’s words, ex­plic­itly im­plores si­lence with her fin­ger over her lips. “More than si­lence, it asks us to speak in whis­pers to calm the shrieks of today’s so­ci­ety. I don’t think we need to shout more to fight the scream. That’s a mis­take. We need to cre­ate the si­lence needed to hear our lit­tle voices.” There are two other sculp­tures, the stylised Laura Asia, born from a pine, and the In­vis­i­ble Ana, made of mesh, which “helps us un­der­stand what we are like in­side”. Prices range from 370,000 to 430,000 euros. On the walls of the gallery are a group of draw­ings (30,000 euros) of sculp­tural pro­jects in which the artist once again favours trans­parency: “they are like ghosts em­brac­ing the air.” “All of these works talk about what I’m like. And they rep­re­sent us all,” he re­marks.

fea­ture art

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