LLEI D'ART 14

de los asistentes se superponían a las salas desnudas y las llenaban –literalmente–, convirtiéndose involuntariamente en piezas de exposición. Es posible que yo también fuera observada y aleatoriamente etiquetada en mi anonimato, convirtiéndome inconscientementeenun lienzomásdeestos museos deshabitados. Quizás fue por terror a la estética del vacío, a la declaración de silencios de las fotografías, por lo que paradójicamente mis ojos llenaban sus ausencias con la presencia de las personasquehabían idoaverlas (oaservistas).Las imágenes anunciaban su propia caducidad y la de todo lo que estaba a su alrededor, como si aquel encuentro fuera en sí mismo una exposición itinerante que prontamente dejaría la galería tan desnuda e irreconocible como las propias pinacotecas expuestas. Desde luego ese «aquí y ahora» yano vuelve; eso estaba claro. La inexistencia de cualquier referencia temporal o geográfica en las fotografías, así como el insólito vacío de las salas retratadas,provocabaun inevitable retornoalpuntodeorigen, a la página en blanco que permitía, o más bien incitaba, a los visitantes a llenar con su propio imaginario los espacios deshabitados. Laexposición reclamaba la intervenciónactiva del espectador como tácito comisario de estos museos en blanco que inesperadamente se convertían en continente y contenido; cargados de potencialidad, de posibilidades, de extraña transitoriedad. Ahoramepreguntodequé llenaron los demás esas salas tan vacías… MaríaGómez López Historiadoradel Arte strippedof the attributes that define them, thatmake themwhat they are. Quite theparadox…uninhabited museums filling a gallery, their own nakedness questioningwhat was takingplace. The corridor where theworkswere exhibitedwas in shadow and crammedwithpeople, an anonymous masswhere everyonewas trying tobe someone. Thus is art:made of fragile appearances, of phantasmagorical, feeble, arrayedpretentions in a total vacuum that only a fewdare to reveal. From the entrance you could see the silhouettes, the earrings, the heels, the recently-pressed suits, the glasses of wine. Very fewpeople there stopped to contemplate the hanging emptiness on thewalls, althoughmaybe they had already done soupon arrival. To see the works on exhibition you had toweave through the various groups that filled the hall, andonoccasion, the uninhabitedmuseumswere only visiblebehind a shoulder, a head, or a tray of the elegant cocktails that were lavishedon the guests. It was undoubtedly the other side of the gallery –wherewe find the permanent collection – that was thebetter place to better enjoy thephotographer’swork. After a fewmoments of uncertainty, of a certain unease at a situation similar to fighting toget to my platformon themetro, the situation started to become entertaining. People joined together in smiling, chatty groups in an artistic event that was actually a social meetingpoint (or perhaps the perfect occasion tobe seen) and, unconsciously, thesepeople stopped to chat next toBallester’s large emptymuseums. The elegant outlines of thepeople present superimposed themselves onto the naked halls and filled them – literally. Thus they became, withoutmeaning to, exhibitionpieces. It is possible that I was alsoobserved and randomly labelled inmy anonymity – unconsciously becoming another canvas in these uninhabitedmuseums. Maybe it was out of the fear of the aesthetics of the empty, of thephotographs’ declarationof silence, that paradoxicallymy vision filled the absenceswith thepresence of people that hadgone to see the pieces (or tobe seen). The images showed their own shelf life and that of everything that surrounded them, as if that encounter were in itself awandering exhibition that would soon leave the gallery as naked and unrecognisable as the gallery spaces on show. Of course, this ‘here and now’ isn’t comingback, that muchwas clear. The lack of any reference in space or time in the photographs, aswell as the unwonted emptiness of the spaces depicted, provoked an inevitable return to thepoint of origin, to theblankpage that allowed, or rather encouraged, the visitors to fill the uninhabited spaceswith their own imaginary. The exhibition called for the viewer’s active intervention as a tacit commissioner of theseblankmuseums, which unexpectedly become container and content; loaded withpotential, possibilities, or a strange transience. Now I’mwonderingwhat other people filled those empty roomswith… MaríaGómez López Art Historian JoséManuel Ballester. SinTítulo 5 / Untitled 5 © JoséManuel Ballester. Cortesía/ Courtesy Ivorypress 134