Abre-Vía ( llorar es el atajo )


no soy ese ser que seía ser  

abrevia   mejor

abre vía, respira       o dilata

          come meco

abre nuevas rutas

rutas diferentes

los entes difieren

fieras todos ellos

salvajes del alba


                  el sexo es dedos



el cráter no es lo más profundo

mira hacía atrás

proyecta el futuro

la funda mental la llevamos todos

hay clavos también

calvos del corazón

soy un gordo metido en un flaco

no me importa pensar

adicto al pensamiento mentiroso

confusión de fusiones mezcladas ensimismadas

para     no     eco

el eco sí


atrápame si puedes

soy mercado


benjamin franco

ruptura sin ritmo

sin escalón

sin cachetes de banqueta

repite la ocasión

los pies duelen

las chanclas comidas de tu abuelo muerto   – porque la retórica esta en bolsas de plástico

llena de impermeabilizante


o seguir leyendo

sin irse

ya están yendo todos a la lluvia

                                       yo veía tu cara

y todo lo barato ya no se vendía

                  mas que en la noche

no sé porque

     que por tus nalgas

   te lo juro

que el lujo

es todo menos algas marinas

el siglo XX

es doble negación

tache doble

cruz sobre dos patas

quiero dormir     y no puedo

mira el do

mira el re

do s toievsky

no lo leí

que leí?

abre vía

o pen

pluma rápida

es el atajo

el password

el truco

la llave

el túnel

la autopista

la autopsia

la psi

ensancha o recorta

tortuga o correcamino

camino que corre

no corro

no grito

si empujo

me corro

me gritan

no empujo

el rito

la roca


usa taladro

usa martillo

usa caladora

la aviación del abreviar

te lleva rápido

menos tiempo

yo pido

el pide

todos pedimos

la poesia no pide velocidad

pide ra

pide ra ra ra

y no tiene porra

la prisa de la risa que multiplica la respiración

y como que regurgitamos

y como que escupimos un poco

y el ojo salta y la panza duele  y los cachetes otra vez

 no de las banquetas

si no de las abuelas

se contorsionan

las arrugas de la risa

son paciencia

de la velocidad de la carcajada

trazos de vías abiertas

fósiles de veredas expresivas

un rostro trabado y repetitivo

que no para de recordar

que conoce perfectamente sus formas en respuestas

de sus fondos

por eso ríe ríe ríe

y no pares

que el río pasa posa y pesa

lo que el viento corre

y cruza piedras

que rozan de roncar

roncar es la manifestación mas política de la noche

la policía

la festación

el ron

el coche

el motor

que pasa sin mirar

 abre vía

el canal

apaga las estrellas

de la vision telescópica

copérnico fornicó mal


T w o I n s t a l l a t i o n s b y ………. B a r b a r a KR U G E R


Barbara Kruger (b. 1945) has been known since the 1970s for her large-scale graphic works featuring sharply worded statements or short texts, which she uses to examine and interrogate common social stereotypes from a feminist and consumerism-critical perspective. She addresses how images and ideas are circulated and perceived today.

In an expansive text installation, Kruger combines her own texts with quotes from George Orwell, James Baldwin, and Walter Benjamin.

In the center is a sentence taken from Orwell’s 1984 book:

“If you want an image of the future, imagine a boot trampling on a human face, forever. “

This nightmarish vision of a totalitarian state originated from Orwell, directly following the Second World War. The statement was intended as a reckoning and reflection on the National Socialist dictatorship in Germany. In his novel 1984, Orwell issued a universal and timeless warning to society to question and critisise any form of state violence and control. By citing this well-known quote, Barbara Kruger also recalls the universal dangers that can arise at any time from repressive structures and nations. Given the current war in Europe, this warning about violence brought about by a totalitarian state seems all the more prescient.

The literary quotes are accompanied by short texts written by the artist that have been adopted from social media news. They address visitors directly and refer to the discrepancies between self-perception and self-alienation, for instance, “Please cry” or “Is that all there is?”. In contrast to Mies van der Rohe’s classical and austere architecture, Kruger employs her own distinctive aesthetic while fundamentally questioning the consumer-oriented, uncritical ways of life that characterise many of today’s societies.

*Text taken from the official website of the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

“Untitled (Beginning/Middle/End)” by Barbara Kruger

This project is a part of Venice Biennale 2022: The Milk of Dreams Images courtesy of La Biennale di Venezia and Sprüth Magers. Photos by Timo Ohler.

It is a large-scale text installation that includes 3 video channels.

The artist intervenes 3 official texts of the bureaucracy of the United States of America: the text to write a will, the text to venerate the flag, and the text that people recite when getting married.

Each text is on a different screen. Each text is typed letter by letter and each key word is constantly exchanged, generating possible alternatives in the reading of these “embedded literatures” in the public imagination.

The hesitation in the constant correction/editing of the animated texts is existential, humorous and also fatalistic. Each text animation is embedded in one of the 3 wall texts that make up the installation:




I wanted to show the work of Barbara Kruger because I consider that her work is a constant demand, a protest that works like crying, the texts that cry on the walls, the words are like tears that run through the architecture. Tantrum texts, whim letters, sounds of sobs, walls of screams.

Her texts go beyond the moral, they are not about slogans or duties, they are more questions, or existentialist sentences that open thought and generate debate and doubts. This textual vulnerability somehow resonates or echoes the vulnerability with which we cry.

Something that interests me is how the text is interrupted, how the text breaks, and how this is similar to crying. Crying is like a moment of oxygenation in which the speech is interrupted. She is interrupting the architecture, or even interrupting famous quotes, or legal texts… she is continually interrupting the text itself. She invites you to read with the body. You access the text by fragments, your body is interrupting the text. Isn’t crying the interruption of speech, or the broken linearity of thoughts?

existing new

P e u t -ê t r e , m a i s c e n ‘e s t p a s v r a i / A u -t o r-m i e n t a

Peut-être, mais ce n’est pas vrai / Au- tor- mienta. Víctor del Oral, 2017, 2018…
Installation/performance (Lecto_escultura) at Lobby Gallery, Ecole Superieure d Art , Aix en Provence, France.

Hanging from the ceiling and just above my head, there is a black plastic bag containing 50 liters of water. As the reading progresses I pierce the bag with metal nails taped to my fingers and a constant stream of water falls on my head. It was a kind of self-inflicted storm, a brainstorm that soaks me.

I was interested in constructing an image of myself giving a speech under a black cloud, the experience of reading in a downpour, of wetting the text, bringing it to a state of vulnerability and fragility while it was being read.

In some way, it was a massive outburst of crying, an attempt to return to that primal moment, to that point of origin, the crying of a newborn at birth, that first vocalization we make when we are still covered in placenta.

Text: poems by Víctor del Oral.

This performance has been presented twice, one in Lobby Gallery, Ecole Superieure d Art , Aix en Provence, France, and another in the Obrera Centro cultural space in Mexico City, 2018.

existing new


My Grandmother and Me, Víctor del Oral, 2016
B/W Photograph. Digital Print. Variable dimensions

One gesture, two images. A portrait and a self-portrait. A combination of two photographs taken in the same year. In the image on the left, me crying, a moment of loneliness, sadness and anguish. In the image on the right, a photo of my grandmother crying with joy at the baptism of her first great-granddaughter.

Despite the fact that the reasons for crying are very different, one of pain, the other of happiness, the gesture is the same. This point is the central axis of this work: the closest two points in the circumference of a circle are, at the same time, the two points furthest away from each other. How is it possible that similar forms can carry different meanings ?