There is a modern history of seascapes. It would start off with Urgell, who discovered Miró, and continue with the detailed photos of Hiroshi Sugimoto or the grey storms of Gerhard Richter. Paul Valéry exclaimed: “la mer, la mer toujours recommencée!” and here Ramon Surinyac displays not only the untiring movement of the ocean but also the vast reflection of images both precise and ambivalent, virtually-embedded instants and a dynamic creation anew of the instability of all perceived reality.
Evidently (we mean: thanks to evidence, what lets us see) we are faced with a Heraclitic conception of things. Surinyac doesn’t drive this argument towards an obscure formulation though, more so it is contemplative and serene, even – despite the crash of waves before us – silent. The quirkiness of this work is that it refers to two distinct aesthetic dimensions: the self-conscience of the pictorial fact and meditation through sensual experiences.
Something intriguing happens here: we can see the image and we can see the painting. His collection of woods, where he plays with the paradox between symmetry and coincidental diversity, evokes the psychoanalytic proof of Roschard’s test. Reflections of light swept along by the water or the dense vegetation appear from nowhere and an unquestionable presence springs forth, that of painting. It isn’t necessary to choose between interpreting the image and the sensual delight of the picture. In a universe which brings about change, complexity must always be the answer.