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Eugenio Castro

About the revolt in Madrid in May and June 2011: Seized square, magnetized square: the citadel of an realized utopia

This square is now a constantly renewed citadel, in the sense that it isn't fixed by external boundaries, but extends according to the requirements of material, mental and spiritual necessities in which even here imagination is admirable as well as an organizational ability that demonstrates the falsity of the perpetual present time of the economy. In this regard, one of the ways in which time is being lived is the one without money. Since the rising of the movement of disobedience, the money has been expelled from this city which, how partially you like, is the living embodiment of a concrete utopia that is being realized. Without money – marvelous assertion of the practical truth of poetry. And it is so that assemblary imagination and organization, horizontal, fraternal (how hasn't this word been actualized and how hasn't it become a formidable force that forever seemed to have lost its energy, all its truth!) have achieved, in its turn, to establish the communism of genius – all the creativity for the people and by the people, in their experimental,  playful and organized expressions and their practices. 
And let us not forget another thing: (...) Leer más


About the revolt in Madrid in May and June 2011: The Sun Rises in the Night

Sketches of the revolt of Madrid

May 18, 2011

Today, at five o'clock in the morning, the general assembly, which had begun at three-thirty in the morning, was still lively. A thousand people occupied the Plaza de Sol at that time. The scenery was wonderful: people sleeping or dozing, or wrapped in blankets and standing, wandering around putting up posters with generally imaginative slogans, exchanging ideas, masters of their own bodies and dreams. And lovers who loved each others, yes, exactly. A black glove over the cardboards, and a blanket-man standing, taking a self portrait because he had found his own new beauty. Fatigue fraternizes with imagination. The dream lives over the asphalt. Oneirism and wakefulness together: one could almost say that the dream and action have twinned (ah, Baudelaire!). I do not exaggerate anything. What joy! May what lasts last, as one painting says: the world is revolving around the Plaza de Sol.

Now one can only let oneself be carried with this joy, despite the reformists, leftists and other filtrations who want to appropriate the wonderful disarray in which the political class is engulfed. These are nothing but rags before the event itself.

May 19

At (...) Leer más



Disaction is the opposite of action. It results not from any articulation or discourse, and doesn’t have any practical or ideological purpose, at least not in the moment of its realization. A priori, none of the latter has anything to do with disaction. Volition is secondary. Passivity comes first. A disaction is an event. It occurs absentmindedly, spontaneously or unexpectedly. In a certain way, it is disdainful: it occurs independently of premeditation; and it isn’t anything that is enunciated. It resembles an apostrophe in one’s daily wandering, taking place within a state of wakefulness. It is also a jump of joy for the spirit, a modest joy although experienced as very pleasurable (which is accustomed to being increased over the course of time, due to the quietude that it leaves in the mental and affective field, as well as in new moments of disaction).

Therefore disaction is not an activity; in this case it lacks any productive principle: a disaction is unproductive as it is gratuitous and asystematic, and furthermore is anonymous and consequently represents a lack of concern for calculated effort and authorship. In this respect, disaction is the opposite of effort, in its mental and/or articulate elaboration and (...) Leer más


Allucinatio Insulae

The wind is a great waterfall, a fall through which the air rushes down. What is it that opens itself in the space for the air to precipitate? What is the nature of the accumulation that comes to unleash that frenzied whip?

The violence of the air always appears to be triggered under the sign of a strong decompensation. All its devastating power, all the material turmoil and the dislocation of elements that it produces has as its ultimate goal the restoration of something that had been removed from the place.

The corpses of the wind are the same as the fire's.


The heat takes up everything. The light sweats. The shadow sweats. The palm sweats. All the bodies sweat. Moisture invades everything: nails, lime, bricks, sexes, iron. The moisture leads to sleep. And the people lie down on the sidewalks and sleep. A man and a woman in that corner. Four feet protrude from another one, but it is eight of them. Some more in another street. A quarter to four, then at five, and at another hour without name, Fourier has a siesta on the streets (...) Leer más


Vision, photography and the photographic image

I would like to introduce, from the beginning, a critical consideration of the image as a media phenomenon, and seek thereafter to make a shift from which the relationship with it would take another, perhaps liberating direction.

I'm not sure whether we are few or many people today to perceive the image as a domain and that it is an instrument of domination, nor do I know if there is insufficient awareness about the power that it unfolds for itself and about the influence that it excercise. I could also add that the image is economy, not in the sense of containment but on the contrary, of surplus: the image is part of the productivist dynamics of an economic system that carries within it the root of what some of us call capitalism of the mind, i.e. the monopoly of man's conscious and unconscious feelings. Thus the image is the image of the proliferation of capitalism that the sensible world and the human mind suffer gravely of. Because of this proliferation, the experience, as directly as possible (and that anybody can have out of which remains of unprecedented in his or her inner and what is unprecedented outside of

(...) Leer más


The language to come


Sometimes we tend to use the expression ”from the outside of language”. Through it we intend to mean something like what will follow. There is a commonly accepted standard of verbal communication in everyday life that is supposedly determined by a logical discourse. In the ”logic” goes, unequivocally it seems, a use of language spoken pragmatically, usefully, identifiably. Presumably, if the spoken language does not have these characteristics, that is, if it doesn't retain certain established linguistic rules, we would be illegible, we would not understand each others. It is a fact that this amounts to maintain, inevitably, rigid forms of communication that are held on the basis that they have to mean something, that they have to make sense, that they have to be comprehensible, that is, we need to have a rational communicative behavior, or else we would turn illogical, we would fall into nonsense, we would become absurd and irrational. And it is precisely what it is about: for who could continue preventing us from losing ourselves orally, from initiating talks through which (this is language, a means, rather than a tool) humanity could restitute to itself relationships sponsored by the satisfaction of its (...) Leer más


Seminario: El surrealismo en su presente

23-27 Julio de 2007. Talleres Fuentetaja. Madrid.

Director: Eugenio Castro
Con la coordinación de Julio Monteverde, Lurdes Martínez y la asistencia de José Manuel Rojo.

Es un propósito de elemental salud histórica comenzar por exponer, aunque sea sucintamente, y refiriéndonos a dos instancias, lo que el surrealismo no es, pues de este modo se comprenderá mejor lo que el surrealismo es.

El surrealismo no es una vanguardia:

No nos detendremos a explicar por qué los profesores, los académicos, los doctores universitarios siguen haciendo creer a sus alumnos que el surrealismo es un movimiento vanguardista. Basta decir que, aún encuadrándose en el clima de una época que históricamente se situó en primera línea de los mayores avances formales y sociales, resultaría un reduccionismo típicamente historicista ceñir su aparición, su acción y su continuidad a esa definición limitada y limitadora. Simplemente, el surrealismo excedió prácticamente desde su nacimiento esa esfera, y sobre todo lo hizo cuando en 1925 tomó conciencia política de su situación en el mundo en relación con la situación del hombre en el mundo. Ahora, por lo tanto, lo que cuenta es afirmar, alto y claro, que el surrealismo es un movimiento que se inscribe en la tradición del pensamiento revolucionario, al que (...) Leer más

El Gran Boscoso

Estoy allí donde los remolinos de repente se forman, donde la niebla espontánea brota, donde el aire inapreciablemente quema. Estoy allí donde todo es ajeno y una presencia anónima a nuestro lado causa el efecto de un beso incalculable, provoca un escalofrío que obedece, más que a una impresión de pavor a lo desconocido, a la voluptuosidad de una emoción desconocida. Yo habito allí donde lo desconocido se torna voluptuoso. Yo soy el allí donde por primera vez se llega.
Negra, la naturaleza del aire en su canto.
Y son entero que pronuncia, y hiende:
El Gran Boscoso,
viento que pasa y borra al hombre,
y le devuelve su presencia absoluta.
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Vigilia de uno. Una ciudad onírica

1. Llegué a esa cal e y un ave de cristal abrió sus alas de vidrio roto...
2. Alguien iba dejando pistas, como unas iniciales al lado de una mariquita pintada en una
pared desconchada...


3... Y una pluma ensimismada contemplando su propia sombra…
4. Por primera vez me fue revelada la ciudad a la que había l egado: la de los paraguas rotos...


5... En un paso de cebra...
6... En la hierba...


7... Restos ya de la propia vida dignos de su piel...
8... Flores urbanas que abren los hombres para atraer la l uvia y cuyo esqueleto rompe el viento…


9. ¿Qué eran, las vestimentas de un ángel pobre puestas a secar?...

10. De pronto se extendió ese ingenio melancólico que no conoce suicidas, frecuentado por sombras complacientes, un poco huesudas, cargado (...) Leer más

La caída de la casa Morales

El 23 de agosto de 1940 Leonora Carrington, escritora y pintora surrealista fue ingresada en la Clínica Psiquiátrica del Dr. Luis Morales, en Santander. Varias circunstancias conducen a este encierro. La invasión nazi de Francia, que tiene a Max Ernst entre los millones de víctimas. Max Ernst y Leonora Carrington mantenían una relación amorosa. Por segunda vez él fue apresado y encarcelado en un campo de concentración, en  mayo de 1940. A partir de ese instante ella entra en un estado de alteración mental agudo que le conduje hasta Madrid y, considerado como loca, a Santander.

El Dr. Luis Morales, de ideología nazi, la acoge en su clínica (una de las poquísimas existentes en Europa que gozase del prestigio de la alta burguesía, de la nobleza y de la realeza), experimentando con ella, al igual que lo hacía con otros pacientes, una cura ejemplar. En sus palabras, Leonora Carrington sanó “con solo tres sesiones de meduna (choque convulsivo químico con cardiazol”), lo que le permitió que “recuperase un buen y bien vivir”. La narración que hace Leonora Carrington de este periodo de su vida en su texto Abajo César Moro, Versiones del surrealismo, pag. 79, Tusquets Editor, Cuadernos Marginales 41, Barcelona, 1974) nos da cuenta detallada de (...) Leer más


Principio de insolación (las plazas duras)

Proliferan las llamadas “plazas duras”. Se las reconoce porque el suelo que las conforma está constituido por losas que, valga la redundancia, enlosan la tierra. Es una superficie cuyo material, supongo que hecho a base de aleaciones indistintamente naturales y artificiales (aunque esto poco importa) endurece hasta la propia vista. En ellas, apenas unos cuadrados o rectángulos se abren aquí y allí (y eso cuando así ocurre) siguiendo el criterio de los diseñadores, urbanistas, etc. En ellos se han plantado árboles que cumplen una función meramente decorativa, siguiendo, de nuevo, el modelo del diseñador. Especies que no alcanzarán ni la altura ni el volumen como para poder cobijar al ciudadano de la inclemencia estacional. Risibles pinceladas verdes para disimular la desolación que produce esa extensión de material armado. A juego con el suelo, el mobiliario que las viste, en concreto los bancos, definen con la crudeza de su incomodidad, el sentido arisco e inhóspito que suelen tener esas plazas.

Sí se presta un poco de atención, se observará que las mismas circundan o avanzan, sobre todo, edificios de instituciones culturales. Y de modo especial, de Museos de arte contemporáneo. (Por puro mimetismo, esta costumbre se ha extendido a otro tipo (...) Leer más


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