Suicidal flowers / Flores suicidas

La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.

Jorge Galindo’s exhibit at Málaga’s Centre for Contemporary Art is called “Las Flores Salvajes,” which means “Wild Flowers” — as opposed to Las Flores Silvestres [Wildflowers]). The large-format paintings are collage and photomontage. He paints in oils atop old posters. The work at the top of this post, with San Geraldo, was one of the smallest pieces. Our first impression when we entered the exhibit was, “Wow!” What we saw was the first image below, created in 2009 called “Masquerade.” We lost interest shortly after. Galindo was interviewed for the local paper and had this to say:

“I paint the flowers onto old posters because they have a texture that reminds me of the form of flowers. I always had to go looking for them on the outskirts of Madrid under motorway bridges because it was the only way I could find these posters preserved from the weather and the passing of time. They reminded me of flowers that grow on the train tracks; like suicidal flowers that grow along the motorways.”

Other components of the works are digitally printed vintage postcards, pieces of wallpaper, and portions of the floor and other elements found around his studio. It was enlightening to read what the artist had to say, including the fact that he got emotional (teary) while discussing it. But that’s not how I find pleasure in art. I want to experience the art for myself without being told what was intended or what I should feel. This isn’t all of it, but it will give you an idea of what we saw. What’s your take?

Last night was the celebration on the beach of Saint John’s Eve, a feast said to be in honor of the birth of St. John the Baptist. Interesting how it just happens to coincide with the pagan ritual of welcoming the summer solstice. I went down at midnight to snap some photos. I’ll share a bit in the coming days.

I plan to head into Málaga tomorrow (Sunday) to catch the Soho neighborhood’s Urban Market. San Geraldo might even join me. The Centro Alameda train station is on the western edge of the neighborhood.


La exposición de Jorge Galindo en el Centro de Arte Contemporáneo de Málaga se llama “Las Flores Salvajes”. Las pinturas de gran formato son el collage y el fotomontaje. Pinta al óleo encima de viejos carteles. La obra que encabeza este post, con San Geraldo, fue una de las piezas más pequeñas. Nuestra primera impresión cuando entramos a la exhibición fue, “¡Guau!” Lo que vimos fue la primera imagen a continuación, creada en 2009 llamada “Masquerade”. Perdimos interés poco después. Galindo fue entrevistado por el periódico local y dijo lo siguiente:

“Pinto las flores en carteles viejos porque tienen una textura que me recuerda la forma de las flores. Siempre tenía que ir a buscarlos a las afueras de Madrid bajo los puentes de las autopistas porque era la única forma de encontrar estos carteles preservados de la intemperie y el paso del tiempo. Me recordaron a las flores que crecen en las vías del tren; como flores suicidas que crecen a lo largo de las autopistas”.

Otros componentes de las obras son postales antiguas impresas digitalmente, pedazos de papel tapiz y partes del piso y otros elementos que se encuentran alrededor de su estudio. Fue esclarecedor leer lo que el artista tenía que decir, incluido el hecho de que se emocionó (lloró) mientras lo discutía. Pero no es así como encuentro placer en el arte. Quiero experimentar el arte por mí mismo sin que me digan lo que se pretendía o lo que debería sentir. Esto no es todo, pero les dará una idea de lo que vimos. ¿Cuál es tu opinión?

Anoche fue la celebración en la playa de la Víspera de San Juan, fiesta que se dice es en honor al nacimiento de San Juan Bautista. Es interesante cómo coincide con el ritual pagano de dar la bienvenida al solsticio de verano. Bajé a medianoche para tomar algunas fotos. Compartiré un poco en los próximos días.

Planeo ir a Málaga mañana (domingo) para visitar el Urban Market del barrio del Soho. San Geraldo podría incluso unirse a mí. La estación de tren Centro Alameda está en el borde occidental del barrio.

• Masquerade, 2009.
282 x 400 cm (9.25 x 13 feet)
• La Osa Mayor Recita, 2021–2022.
• The Senior Bear Recites.
• La Osa Menor Recita, 2021–2022.
• The Young Bear Recites.
• Rosas del Porvenir, 2022.
• Roses of the Future.
• El Rapto de Venus, 2022.
• The Kidnapping of Venus.
• Corona de Cardos, 2020.
• Crown of Thistles.
• La Vía Apia, 2022.
• The Appian Way.
• La Flores Puissantes 2020.
• The Blooming Flowers.
• La Sorpresa de Alentejo, 2022.
• Alentejo’s Surprise.
• Floralia IV, 2021.

Click the thumbnails to enlarge.
Haz clic en las miniaturas para ampliar.

Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

26 thoughts on “Suicidal flowers / Flores suicidas”

  1. I like the phrase and concept of “suicidal flowes” more than “wild flowers.” And I’m with you — I don’t want to stand around at an art gallery reading a lot of chat, chat, chat about the art. The art’s got to speak to me, man, SPEAK to me!

    1. Debra:
      Fortunately, this was all “explained” in the newspaper. I don’t enjoy at all curated shows when the curators tell you want to think… and, especially, tell you what the artist was thinking even though the artist is long dead and never said what they were thinking.

  2. I like his sense of randomness with his assertive brush strokes…….use colours is great.
    I don’t care for the very dark last painting.

  3. I am always drawn to the slashy bold strokes of artists. With the collage additives, I then take more time to allow the subject to dissolve or develop more ~ La Flores Puissantes 2020 and La Osa Mayor Recita, 2021–2022 have caught my attention.

    1. Ron:
      I’m glad you enjoyed this. I was taken at first, but an entire exhibit of it didn’t do it for me.

  4. I like most of the paintings, but I’ll admit I rarely read commentary that accompanies anything like that. I either like it or I don’t. I don’t need to know any details from the artist. I missed noting the solstice this year!

    1. Kelly:
      Thankfully, I didn’t read the commentary until I read a newspaper after seeing the exhibit. Curated shows with too much explanation annoy me.

  5. I guess beauty and art is in the eye of the beholder…. but I’m not surprised these flowers are suicidal.

    1. Tundra Bunny:
      I wonder why he didn’t call the show Suicidal Flowers. Maybe it would have been considered insensitive.

    1. Walt the Fourth:
      That was my reaction to the exhibit, but then you’re absolutely right. I loved Devan Shimoyama’s work and the exhibit could have been described as samey, too.

  6. When looking at art, I prefer to form my own opinion, and once that has settled in, I’ll THEN see if what someone has to say matches my thoughts.

    Which remind me, maybe you should have shown the paintings first, and then followed it with the prose. But that’s all right.

    1. Kirk:
      I thought of keeping my mouth shut, but just couldn’t help myself.

    1. Urspo:
      Málaga is becoming known for its galleries and museums. I love it. What are the art museums like in Phoenix?

  7. It is a lot of the same, in a way that looks sort of mass-produced. There’s no development or variation on a theme really, just “here’s another one.” There’s also something about them that looks insufficiently considered, i.e., “a stroke here, a stroke there; that’s a pretty color, I’ll use it; as long as it ends up looking like a flower, I’m OK.” There’s no depth or thought conveyed.

    1. Wicked Hamster:
      “A lot of the same” is exactly what we said. We didn’t appreciate the individuality of the canvases as described by the artist. Nope.

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