All the stuff of life courses through the works of Agustin Pozo Galvez. All of it together, fractured here, integrated elsewhere. We see the hollow monuments, we are mesmerized by the empty words, the Crimson Fury. Born into question, the noble dream of language, sublime breath in the sylvan forest, our hold on that glimmering silver thread of hope is weakening, it is a world turned on its fragile axis gasping for clarity, its gorgeous, supple harmony threatened.
To understand this work one must study the language of paint, learn to read the energy in a gesture, grasp the story in a stroke, unite the notes of color. For these are not "abstract" pieces but legends revealed through pattern, ideas shared in the siftings of sediment, life presented in all its turmoil and grandeur. There is great and elegant care behind a blatant reveal, a hint of silliness, a sumptuous feast under the stars that last all week. Similar to our fractal world in all its abundance and richness, small fragments of each piece could stand as a complete work.
But there can be no hiding in the shadows of these structures and highways, no burying of heads in the rich and terrible layerings. We all know deep down our worship of that droll God Irony, though at times a welcome relief, is but a counterfeit for authenticity. In all his masterful labor, our artist is boldly stating that you will not escape unwounded and our children will not thrive. We will either face the ugly dissolution of this dazzling beauty as it crumbles, -but no!, this is not the business of life! We cannot waste this! Could Pozo be asking us to rally in our hearts and feel that perhaps, just maybe, maybe, it is not too late?
Susan Marie Dopp, Artist