please, says Pedro
Make it two, I say
Cortado is a small coffee in a small very small coffee cup with a drop of milk that cuts the intense brown with the white. Very white.
His cap resting on the table. The table outside. Made of wood. His misty eyes from the morning light that makes them light up because of the sensibility that moves him and touches his lacrimal.
Pedro is vegan. Pedro is vegetarian since he left his parents house. Pedro is vegan since he moved to New York. I am vegetarian though I sometimes eat fish. I am not a vegetarian. I eat fish. When I met Pedro who is vegan I decided not to eat neither red meat anymore nor white meat except for fish. Some days ago Pedro walked by two men on the street. One man said to the other that Pedro seemed to carry with him a child. Inside. When we enter to a hotel we do it through the door, the big one, the one with the sign on top that says entrance or the name of the hotel or something similar. The main one. The main one? Pedro says that what he creates and thinks for this exhibition comes from a juxtaposition of things he has been going through in his life and of an intention of getting into a place through the service door, the back door, the one that employees use, the one that has a sign of private property do not come in authorized personnel only, as a psychic deviation. A shortcut. We are in a time of approximation, of change. Painting is contemplative, says Pedro. This is its difference with what is not painting that is all the rest.
Painting is contemplative, I repeat
Art for the sake of art, says him
Sometimes I ask myself what I would like to ask someone else.
Catalina: Who are the artists that have influenced your work is the most aggressive question someone can ask somebody, sorry for the rudeness, but what would you reply?
Catalina: I would reply something like it's all in the street, out there, nail salons, food establishments. For Pedro it is definitely food that changes him year by year, month by month, minute by minute. The food, to which his body adapts to, the one that makes him go out to the street every day, the one that keeps him on his feet. It is a way of living doing it in the way each one does it.
Things to do:
-Look up self-sufficient farms. Build one. See how it is done first. Budget.
-Everything is so absolutely controlled. Try to avoid control. Escape for a while.
-Accept the error. Human.
For halloween he bought spicy pumpkin seeds. I tell him the spice is not spicy, it's cinnamon. It's with what our grandmothers and mothers used to cook the rice with milk and the natilla. The mist is a steam in the air. Pedro prefers almond milk. Soy milk is too liquidy. Spontaneity is what we need to get out of this closed circuit in which we get trapped: routine trends alienation superficiality plastics packaging and the habits we create, says Pedro. Here today now un-alienate us and feel what he says he feels. What he feels. And just that. Just this. Feel. To be...
Maybe it's just a cloud passing by.
Animals have a life cycle. We have a life cycle. Both conclude in death and nevertheless they don't conclude. A party is a celebration. Celebrate we celebrate many things with no sense, others make sense. Sense is a subjective and collective construction. Personal and cultural. Death is celebrated. It is a macabre festivity. Sinister. The movie The Exterminating Angel by Luis Buñuel shows the development of a party into tragedy with a subjacent theme: the impossibility of getting out of a limited space. Finite. Which doesn't have everything that makes life possible. Luxury dematerializes and becomes mundane. The reason is nothing and everything.
Pedro thinks about excessive consumption, the immeasurable slaughter of animals that are not born to be treated as what they are, but as objects. Objectified. Animals are not objects, we are living beings. In Spain 40 million hams are sold per year. While Pedro is saying this to me he drinks a cortado from a small paperboard cup with a big blue P printed in the surface of it and it is blue as his hair. As his eyes. The reflection. The mist is in the eyes of who can see it. In the eyes of Pedro that are blue you can see the reflection of his hair that is blue, maybe his hair is reflected on his eyes maybe his eyes are a reflection of his hair.
Some days ago I went to a party. Then I left the party.