Throughout time there has been a lot of preaching about the death of art. Although marked by injuries received, the fact is that art is there, being reborn again and again from its ashes. We could be talking about a tragic or ludic, but always rebellious, adventure. Because nothing like art has received the untimely harbinger of nomadism, or rather, of the perpetual demolition of sedentary, petrified and dead territories. This is all in favour of bringing forth what isn’t as yet, the appearance, the emergence of the unexpected. And in a way similar to nomads, who travel in wonder and astonishment upon Mother Earth, with their steed as a dear travel companion. Today, we have artists that have also continued, as long before, on the uncertain road of errantry, in this case opening lines of escape, unlimited spaces comprised of the four cardinal points, itineraries without boundaries, regardless of domain or of the powers that be. Artists delivered their instability, armed with nothing more than beauty. Here, we are talking about Gustavo Aceves, of his offer of broken, fractured and painful beauty, a resurrected beauty that gives tribute to the artists that have gone before, offering their life to create forms capable of uniting heaven and earth, the sacred, the mortal. Combat, put into play, a challenge to the prevailing, destructive nihilism. No, Gustavo Aceves does not forget, not a plane, nor car, nor high-speed train is enough and leftover for him to fulfil the odyssey of present-future with the mysterious magic of the steed. Here also taking the art as what it is, an accumulation of forms with its implacable characteristics, its severity, its responsibility, and its generous profusion.
Jorge Juanes, Philosopher and Art Critic