Leechpit

The feeling is dispersed in the face of new beginnings. There is nothing in the music of Juan J. Colomer (Alzira, 1966) that does not speak about it: what he enunciates, what he leaves silent, what he does not completely conceal comes to intervene like the first day between those who listen to it. The luminous passages belong to the frank way in which an idea is shaped and it's detours, where it appears without veils, as essential as the darkness that, from time to time, inhabits it. Both are openings to what his work is. We look for ways of access to the present and past, to small pieces of the map, to the abandoned territory or memory, to the contradictions it interrogates. Although this time it is titled "genesis," Colomer modulates a thought without origin or end, within a perpetually restarted discourse. This is how his invention lives outside. Perhaps in it's living references, without dates or places exactly assignable, it retains the sense in which it inscribes, deprived of it's ancient power, enigmatic connections, metamorphoses of times. For this reason, although it is about genesis, Colomer's works become strange to the conditions of their creation, they are beyond the finished and the unfinished, they radiate as far as we like to imagine.
The feeling is dispersed in the face of new beginnings. There is nothing in the music of Juan J. Colomer (Alzira, 1966) that does not speak about it: what he enunciates, what he leaves silent, what he does not completely conceal comes to intervene like the first day between those who listen to it. The luminous passages belong to the frank way in which an idea is shaped and it's detours, where it appears without veils, as essential as the darkness that, from time to time, inhabits it. Both are openings to what his work is. We look for ways of access to the present and past, to small pieces of the map, to the abandoned territory or memory, to the contradictions it interrogates. Although this time it is titled "genesis," Colomer modulates a thought without origin or end, within a perpetually restarted discourse. This is how his invention lives outside. Perhaps in it's living references, without dates or places exactly assignable, it retains the sense in which it inscribes, deprived of it's ancient power, enigmatic connections, metamorphoses of times. For this reason, although it is about genesis, Colomer's works become strange to the conditions of their creation, they are beyond the finished and the unfinished, they radiate as far as we like to imagine.
8436597700726
Csymphonic Genesis
Artist: Colomer / Orquesta Sinfonica De Radio Television
Format: CD
New: Available $17.99
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The feeling is dispersed in the face of new beginnings. There is nothing in the music of Juan J. Colomer (Alzira, 1966) that does not speak about it: what he enunciates, what he leaves silent, what he does not completely conceal comes to intervene like the first day between those who listen to it. The luminous passages belong to the frank way in which an idea is shaped and it's detours, where it appears without veils, as essential as the darkness that, from time to time, inhabits it. Both are openings to what his work is. We look for ways of access to the present and past, to small pieces of the map, to the abandoned territory or memory, to the contradictions it interrogates. Although this time it is titled "genesis," Colomer modulates a thought without origin or end, within a perpetually restarted discourse. This is how his invention lives outside. Perhaps in it's living references, without dates or places exactly assignable, it retains the sense in which it inscribes, deprived of it's ancient power, enigmatic connections, metamorphoses of times. For this reason, although it is about genesis, Colomer's works become strange to the conditions of their creation, they are beyond the finished and the unfinished, they radiate as far as we like to imagine.
        
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