New Singer Old Song
February 2 – March 11, 2023
Galería Herrero de Tejada

"The same passion that Böcklin felt for mythology or Baudelaire for the cartographic reliefs of old ladies is expressed by Xavi Ceerre with elements that take us back to the origin: charcoal, the ink of a newspaper, a pencil... The fundamental character of this work is shown with essential and primitivist forms that have an impact on our mind, stimulating the most abstract springs of the imagination. The result is a reality that pleases in its euphoric and disciplined agglomeration.

Ceerre's work, in its dialogue with what has already been, comes to reveal to us that PAINTING, or rather, THE NEW, is nothing more than a dialectical meeting, a copulation between the past and the future in order to give meaning to the present. His work awakens jazz appetites. Ceerre paints with his fingernails. He tells us -whether we want to hear it or not- that TOMORROW IS YESTERDAY.

The singularity of his painting establishes bridges between Art History with capital letters and The Street, also with capital letters, either in drug-addicted Atlanta or in Afro-Latin New York. To both of them we owe (and this is the purpose of the work that concerns us) the miracle of having hammered the frame of some paintings, desecrating pop art design cabinets and making spray and sampling a tool of self-defense.
NEW SINGER OLD SONG is a sharp remembrance devoid of melancholic disturbances. The urban paradise that Banksy trivializes and markets is the object of devotion of a work that seems to have been made the day after tomorrow. This Ottodixian author comes to tell us that Paris was a party, that Barcelona is a party, and that, in the party, as in art, there is something that must die; a coal that is consumed and culminates a new meaning.

In its humble and incendiary subtlety, the madness of the night is lucid as black walls, rabid as ink; vindication of blackness as a color forbidden by the standards of the pictorial canon, a canon that consumes itself and forgets; forgets the past, forgets that the future is composed of drawing; the first element: the black line. Where there is something burning that smells alive, eternity and the ephemeral are lovers. The black color that always was is accompanied by the fluorine color that never is; dynamite pink, which, like our turbo-accelerated and (post)post-whatever-is, will die young."

Text by Carla García Domènech