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MARIA BALCELLS FORRELLAD (Sabadell, 1966) I earned a Fine Arts degree from the University of Barcelona. Having lived in various countries, has given me the chance to discover new cultures which had enriched my work. Drawing is my way of expressing everything that surrounds me. A dive to my life experiences and a way to share them. It represents a constant dialogue between what is going on, my personal interpretation, and how you perceive it. Let's make a journey together.

ALICIA GIMENEZ BARTLETT

Maria Balcells. Dibujos. Formas sustanciosas, proteicas, pero no alimenticias. Los dibujos de Maria Balcells no están hechos para gustar a primera vista. Los ojos no se recrean en ellos como con un pastel. Viéndolos he llegado a la conclusión de que pasan directamente al cerebro y se quedan allí, compartiendo lugar con nuestras pulsiones más ocultas. Después de habitar dentro del espectador y ajenos nosotros a lo que el subconsciente puede extraer de ellos viene el análisis, también el profundo goce estético. Piñas observadas a distancia muy corta, detalladas con precisión obsesiva. Setas que se unen mediante un cordón umbilical sinuoso, carnosas como senos de mujer. Hojas cinceladas al milímetro. Rugosidades como materias en sí mismas. No es preciosismo, no son naturalezas muertas, en esos dibujos está contenida de algún modo la esencia vital. ¿Minerales, vegetación, partes del cuerpo humano?: en el arte de María no existe diferencia alguna, todo está englobado en una sola realidad: el mundo en que vivimos. Yo diría que se trata de un dibujo filosófico, porque se adentra en lo más profundo, pero al mismo tiempo claramente orgánico, para nada teorizante o académico. Desde la mano que desentraña el misterio de un objeto llegamos al centro de nosotros mismos. Es una sensación tan directa, que da miedo. Va más allá de un esclarecimiento, es casi una revelación. Esos dibujos nos abarcan, nos contienen. Estamos hechos de ellos. Somos ellos. Alicia Giménez Bartlett Barcelona Octubre 2013 http://www.aliciagimenezbartlett.es

HOW THE WRITER ANASTASIA LAKHTIKOVA INTERPRETS SOME OF MY DRAWINGS:

ABSÈNCIES

REPETITION
When the days go by the same, they are not quite the same. Time washes over me leaving the silt of each passing hour. Am I drowning or surfing?
I might be drifting or even swimming. To me it looks like I’m swimming. To someone else my swimming may look like drowning. A point of view. Whatis a point of view in the ocean of time? The waves-days come and go, come and go -- all same and all unique.
As a small child, I tried to wrap my mind around the linearity of time cringing my face, eyes closed, rolling my small body into a tight ball: “December 7, 1979 will never, never, never happen again!” Then wide-eyed, “What does it mean?!!” Or, going backward in time in my mind, frustrated, “Can’t remember myself being not myself, in the very beginning.” Then, the impossibility of my self’s non-existence established, with a relief, “If there is no beginning, there is no reason to worry about the end.”
Now once again, I want to grasp this precious but otherwise unremarkable day -- nothing happens today, just a mother’s chores -- but I can’t, there is nothing to hang on to. As every day, I am being carried away…

http://independentscholar.academia.edu/AnastasiaLakhtikova

ANASTASIA LAKHTIKOVA

CAMINS

THE OTHER SHORE
I am a tree by the river of time. The other shore is not far away but unreachable. I look at it through the distance of time, there are no details. It is mostly empty, a placeholder for a possible unfulfilled future. I do not see grass. What would happen, I wonder, if I crossed this Rubicon as a seed, then, when I had the chance? What would happen to me? Now I can’t cross and I don’t want to. I stand firmly rooted on this shore just wondering lightly, peering casually through haze. My beloved are all I have. They are my roots.

http://independentscholar.academia.edu/AnastasiaLakhtikova

ANASTASIA LAKHTIKOVA

DESPRENIMENTS

A PART OF ME THAT WILL BE GONE
I didn’t realize at first but now I know – I am on my second beloved pet. My 15 year-old cat and companion of my American youth passed. I slipped into the middle age once she was gone. She was my children’s fuzzy nurse and no-nonsense older sister, sometimes too strict. From birth, they learned to respect animals and grew into middleschoolers with her…
… Now I have a beagle. Adopted at 4 and nearing his 8thbirthday, his muzzle graying, he grows more precious every day. He will be THE DOG of my boys’ childhood. When he leaves us behind in this world, the chances are his passing will mark the end of their childhood.
Arwin, we understand your sorrow because we know some noble cats and worthy dogs whose lives are so much shorter than ours. We know they will pass too soon and painfully to us, orphans, yet we choose to love and to have them every time.

http://independentscholar.academia.edu/AnastasiaLakhtikova

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