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ABOUT CODERCH & MALAVIA
Sharing the creation of a work of art is complicated, there must be a predisposition that allows two personalities to fit artistically. A single voice without ego, two sensibilities that dialogue; four hands, those of Joan and Javier, capable of developing pieces that move between reverie and reality. The project that unites these two artists is unusual, as honest and authentic as his works. Joan Coderch was born in Castellar del Vallés, Barcelona (1959) and graduated from the Faculty of Fine Arts of Barcelona in 1984.
Javier Malavia was born in Oñati, Guipúzcoa (1970) and graduated from the Faculty of Fine Arts of San Carlos, (Valencia) in 1993. Their individual journey as sculptors led them to coincide in the workshops of a large company dedicated to artistic production. There they discovered their affinities and coincidences both in the artistic field and in the personal. And, finally, in 2015, they decide to embark on this project that will take them to different masters of reference in the world of figuration, such as Maillol, Rodin, Marini and Bourdelle. Thus, the center of his aesthetic discourse is the human being, his material the bronze and his search excellence. From natural models sculptural pieces are shown not only as a figurative result, but as the exploration of different human attitudes towards life.
The spectator of the works of Coderch & Malavia will have the fortune to enjoy the encounter between these two concepts, figure and attitude, always making the artistic experience as unique and singular as special. Despite their short history, Coderch & Malavia, they have participated in multiple collective and individual exhibitions, obtaining several selections and recognitions in both national and international contests. His works are part of museums and private collections in different countries of the five continents.
Joan and Javier live and work currently in Valencia.
As a child, sunlight was enough for me to see things with clarity The sun would shine, smelling of wet earth and poppy, and the sunlight would enter even the darkest corners to light them and to give each thing a shade. Everything under the sun was clear, clean, and perfect. I spent my entire childhood observing the things that surrounded me. I was especially drawn to little things. I remember, even now, the beauty of the microuniverse encompassed by my eyes, lying face down on the ground.
The tiny but voluptuous orography of a clod of earth, the perfect green of a small blade of grass and its shade, the perfect mechanism of the legs of an almost transparent spider, and their perfect shade. In that moment, I was the absolute master of that little patch of earth which held me and that I contemplated. If I turned on my back, I could watch the changing motions of the clouds and the chalk lines left by the planes in the sky.
Under that calm, cradled by the distant sound of the planes’ engines and by the murmur of the countryside, feeling life bubbling under my back, I’d close my eyes, stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth and think that everything is possible. Even today, when the city is asleep and the light of my study is on, and I paint with the same diligence as when I used to comb my hair with water, before going to school, I still believe that we can transform life until it resembles what we want it to be. At that time of the night, the memory of that sunlight is enough for me to see things with absolute clarity.