On November 26th, 2016, Can Serrat celebrated two years of art projects by selecting 11 artists previously in residence and invited the curator and art critic Irina Mutt to build a narrative to present the different projects.
English Curatorial Statement
Can Serrat, in El Bruc: a farmhouse of the S.xv with views of Montserrat.
In this house wine has been made. Families, groups of friends, and artists have lived here. Parties and raves were had in the late 80’s, and today it remains as an art residency.
Montserrat has a monastery with Escolanets and mythical virgins, the mountain has been a potential hiding place for the Holy Grail, it has been painted as a delirious and sacred landscape many times, and it also is a site from where to watch UFOs pass as well as a meeting point to make contemporary witchcraft.
Some just go for a walk.
Is there any trace of all these moments and activities? What would happen if you could overlap all that has occurred over time in one place?
Does understanding the story or being able to predict the future serve us to better read the current moment?
A lot of things happen and they happen fast; there is nothing certain and it is difficult to position oneself.
What a time to be alive, right?!
Over a weekend we will meet with artists who have been in residency at Can Serrat to have an exhibition, or rather a meeting where we can activate the works in the same time and place in which they were produced, thought about, or even delayed during their residency.
Different artists, with different practices and formats, coexisting for a few hours at the same point. Everything is possible: UFOs, listening to the sounds of a swamp, reading comics that talk about ourselves, altering the wifi signals or recovering files that explain more about our everyday experiences than so-called official accounts.
What a time to be alive: when we are exhausted, when we do not have time or to stop to think about what happens to us or we want to have happen, when we hardly have time to meet and ask who we have in front of us. This is the only thing that comes to our minds: getting together and living together for a weekend. We meet to talk, eat and dance together, to make an exhibition — that common device where time is an other and where all times can be found.
And we do it without the rigor of the official maps, only with the fragments that we have been finding along the way.
Without fundamentals, nor a final goal, full of doubts and paradoxes, also without guarantees: such is the time in which we find ourselves, which is always the same if we regard it well.