Gallery façade. April 2016.
1. 2016, 60 x 100 x 120 cm, oil on iron.
2. 2016, 215 x 260 cm, fabric, frame, iron, carpet.
3. 2016, 63 x 125 x 20 cm, MDF, wood, fabric, plastic.
4. 2016, 35 x 78 cm, wood, iron, acrylico.
5. 2016, 35 x 78 cm, fabric, frame, ceramic, carpet and oil.
6. 2016, 200 x 200 cm, wood, MDF, carpet, fabric, ceramic.
7. 2016, 115 x 100 x 125 cm, rubber, ceramic, wood, crystal.
8. 2016, 9 x 110 cm, wood and acrylic.
9. 2016, 150 x 270 cm, frame, fabric, MDF, adhesive cloth tape, paper and iron.
10. 2016, 300 x 254 x 103 cm, paint, paper, MDF, fabric and tape.
Vista de exposición.
It was only a matter of time before the work of Miren Doiz took a step forward. It was about placing herself halfway between the intervention and the object, a change that does not always occur naturally, although in her case, the transformation has been exacting. Now with the interventions hanging from the walls, now that painting is no longer the predicate but rather the subject, achieved as if by pre-existing elements taken from spaces where painting seems not to take place, there is the impression that all of this was already there – that there is no before and after.
Accustomed to working in a particular manner, it is not surprising that she finds the studio to be small, now that there is a studio, which has trigged that step forward. The walls hold each of these compositions, trying to connect one with another, but negotiating a truce that somehow implies the space of the gallery. Hence, she lays it all out. Hence, the doubts and perhaps, the cessation of painting as she used to.
When painting is envisioned as it was by Miren Doiz more than a decade ago—that is, as an unlimited exercise far removed from the two-dimensional, it is only natural that the passage of time returns her to a state not yet experienced. It is uncommon to squash the composition, fixing it from the abstract space and thus defining its scope. The general approach would have been to leave the door open to let the little leaks flow, becoming situations that, over time, literally captivate spectators. Nevertheless, Miren Doiz didn’t think twice when she painted a single family home, a bus, or an entire building in downtown Pamplona. By having taken a academic approach to the expanded painting, likely she can understand that what is truly revolutionary may not be the notion of moving away from the support, but rather returning to a space more defined. In this case, the challenge lies not only in the precision but also in how to transform her into an object without compromising the effrontery. It is inevitable to make amends with that which is lasting in order to push forward a series of work that refers in some manner to the improvised, but which finds value in the possibility of staying.
I find it hard to imagine that there is not a political undertone in each of her found objects, in the bargain fabrics, in every fragment of the posters peeled from the city walls, in her drastic decision to totally push aside her paint brushes and draw upon prior paintings. Suspending the gesture to let the work marinate in the form of cutting and pasting. However, the result is not that far off of what she has attained among previous experiences. In some sense, a strong attraction to the residual endures, to the need to imbue the exhibition with that idea of wandering from which, according to Jacques Villeglé, the life of the artist is born. The transfer of the wall could be seen already in the rear of “El bus de Juan” (2008) or in the trompe l’oeil on the walls of Tabacalera (2014). The quest for invisibility, the feeling of minimal intervention reappears in her no-paintings, although in practice it requires the greatest effort to return a space to its original appearance. It is self-deception. Thinking that she is tiptoeing when she has actually plunged inside until she erases the boundary between what was done and what was found. Miren Doiz plans to record herself while she cleans her brushes as she does everyday, applying the excess colour over the ceramic basin of the sink, discovering how the stream of water dilutes it and washes it away. In short, this is about considering ceasing to paint, and yet not being able to stop thinking like a painter.
Ángel Calvo Ulloa, 2016