Manu Iranzo · MARTE Castellón
Surrounded by hundreds of works demanding attention, Manu Iranzo’s drawings appeared almost in silence.
A lot of white.
A contained image.
A quiet presence that did not fully reveal itself from a distance.
You had to come closer.
And as you came closer, the lines began to appear. Thousands of extremely fine lines, clean and patient, crossing the paper with an almost impossible precision. Graphite, white, atmosphere. A vibrant yet calm swell, built in microns of sharpened pencil, with a purity that did not push the eye, but slowly carried it inward.
First you saw a drawing.
Then you saw the sea.
And then you were there.
Diving.
Lost somewhere far from the fair, where the noise had been left behind. Everything became slower. The foam, the line, the emptiness, the paper. The image opened like a quiet place inside the soul and carried you down towards the bottom of the ocean.
There was something almost secret in those pieces. They stood on the wall with a strange discretion, but the closer you came, the larger they became within. The white was distance, air, depth. The graphite opened a passage.
They were not drawings to pass by.
They were almost hidden portals.
Small openings into the sea.
Everything ends in the sea.