︎ @gomezselva1

Los Perros (2018 - ongoing) 

In Los Perros some universal concepts such as sexuality, violence, the future, or love become the existential sleep of an entire generation. The concerns of Gómez Selva regarding his identity and his way of understanding the reality that he has had to live are in conflict with the beliefs of his family and his own life project. From here arises the need to find new spaces, people and situations that reflect his same situation, and relate their individual context to a larger, collective one.

Through the use of contemporary social documentalism, and through the use of personal codes, this work becomes a collection of faces and atmospheres that give voice to a generation labeled as lost. The humanistic nature of the work directs the narrative through a collection of images and written testimonies, slowly revealing the different pieces of a social puzzle, marked by the heartrending look of indifference. T he individual realities of different people become one; a revealing reality that orders the discomforts of simultaneous beings in the world. Self-referentiality is the cover letter of this work, the pretension of which is to make it understood that Gómez Selva not only talks about other people, but searches in those others for what he himself needs to embrace and assume in order to understand his reality in all its complexity.

"Looking towards a mountain of curved lines that has fire on its sides I twist my body in uncomfortable poses and moans that take me away from the world. I have the biggest insecurities hanging around my garden and it has a face like rubber and flesh, a dog's voice, and long hands like deflated penises. The things I like are scary to my dad. People under thirty have no future; they transcend in volatile here and now’s, sometimes unconnected but fed by the eternal sensation of the consummation of life. And the fact is that the illusion of mortality is no worse than that of immortality, not even for those who believe in God and on a steep path of sand and cries whose end is promised eternal, wrapped in the greatest of laughter. For the moment, and I understand the moment as continuity in it’s maximum splendor, I will believe that chips with onions are a cause of worship in the promiscuity of my days. I will believe that my period on the mattress and that his erection painted with jealousy are pure images read by impure minds. I have to write violent words and insipid situations to get the attention of the bodies, and navigate between precious people who leave love letters in the toilets. All my friends love something that doesn’t exist; an absence that we put on the back bench but that stands out among the roses. We are red fire like the legs of an astronaut."

Letter from Elena before leaving.

Exhibited at the CFC (Center of Contemporary Photography), Bilbao, Spain, 2021

Review, The Flow House, Paris, 2020

Selected, Then There Was Us, AND 2020 Annual