Mondrian calmly speakyng with Schwiters and Malevitch, under the beneplacit look of Marcel Duchamp.







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Materials that are withdrawn from waste and hit me powerfully deep inside. Colors touched by the sun, "smoothed" by the wind. Textures sculpted by the imponderable. Objects of time,  that reveal to me as if they where always destined to be assembled together, that way. Worthless objects that came to life, bits of chance, after all, the motor of my art. A Dadaistic philosophy, apparently a anachronism, but that became my spinal cord, my second skin, my soul. With these found objects, I found myself.                    by rib




...chance, chance, chance, chance, chance, chance, chance, chance,...

In my method genesis, is emotion. This emotional state, witch has a philosophical origin in relation with the world, and with objects in particular, builds a urge that transcends me, and  moves me to art.

In the assemblage, planes multiply refusing singularity. They project themselves to the spectator,  they manipulate, confuse and contradict.                                                                                                    by rib



1918 I have given a pretty faithful version of progress, law, morality and all other fine qualities that various highly intelligent men have discussed in so many books, only to conclude that after all everyone dances to his own personal boomboom, and that the writer is entitled to his boomboom: the satisfaction of pathological curiosity;...........................................................

I am not a revolutionary, I am not a reformer, I am not neutral. I embrace the cause but free of flying, in my own terms. My palette its the city space, were I find lost rejected objects that I assemble and harmonize. Time, imponderability and chance, these laws that rules the universe, mixes colors and chape textures. I declare: Duchamp its immortal, emotion creates the Universe.                by rib



1922  I don't have to tell you that for the general public and for you, the refined public, a Dadaist is the equivalent of a leper. But that is only a manner of speaking. When these same people get close to us, they treat us with that remnant of elegance that comes from their old habit of belief in progress. At ten yards distance, hatred begins again. If you ask me why, I won't be able to tell you. Everybody knows that Dada is nothing. I broke away from Dada and from myself as soon as I understood the implications of *nothing.* .....

       by rib

"Ready made" is the most controversial artistic concept of the history of art. It is art  desecration with inerasable consequences for the future artists and art world itself.   Its impact  in human self esteem, was devastating. As science and philosophy where discovering, we where not gods. This painful process questions human part  in the universe.                                             

   by Marcel Duchamp

There is one thing that I want to clear. The choice of these "ready-made" was not dictated by aesthetic reasons. This choice  settles on a reaction of visual indifference and simultaneously a total absence of good or bad taste... in reality a complete anesthesia.  

In my assemblages, crossing lines appear to obey to mathematical purposes. This mondrianization, is one of the "method" principles. But these are not scientific principles. They're instinct, chance and emotion. The "method" implies assuming imponderability as the main element of the creative process. When I end the work I found its not finished yet. It keeps evolving, in this triangular relationship between the author, time and the spectator.                                                by rib











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To be able to see what isn't there what doesn't exist. Everywhere finding in the ephemerons, the strange beauty of the untellable.









Some times a strange been that controls everything, inhabits me. Than, prisoner of the strings, like a puppet, I travel through Alice's world on the other side of the mirror.                by rib

by rib              For one year, these cartoons where published in a net  magazine called NON. Several characters came up and see the ether of internet.

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This site was updated in 17/01/06