LIDÓ RICO’S STIFLED CRY.

JAVIER HONTORIA. 2006

In Lidó Rico’s pieces there are a great number of questions which locate his work on an uncertain level, a state that in most of the cases becomes suspicious. There is something disturbing that makes us be on tenterhooks when we see the frontal crash that the artist suggests, because the frontal point of view and the apparent immediacy of his work are just traps spectators fall in inevitably. His work is a very special interpretation of everyday life, but always under the shadow of intense and disturbing feelings. We wit ness a progressive alienation of the human being that materializes in shapes taken from daily life hiding unequivocal signs of a dramatic presence. But Lidó uses humour and irony to build the middle spaces where everything takes place, because
his language is full of double senses and metaphors about the future of our existence.
A great part of Lidó Rico’s artistic universe is based in the creative process, where we can fin the essence and germ of his conceptual intention. Lidó uses polyester resins to build his faces and masks. In order to do that he buries his face into liquid plaster to create casts. I like to imagine the artist holding his breath to carry out this performative act, because it has a high content of performance, of a greatly expressive experience. This act implies a high level of tension and the
result is the evident translation of a marked physical effort that distorts features and adds disturbing nuances. Thus, the artist shows his link with traditional materials and strategies, because in his work, Lidó reveals some degree of nostalgia. He does not want to forget tradition as an artistic creation or as it refers to our relationship with a constantly changing environment, an environment that favours a more noticeable isolation, a devastating secretiveness.

Part of the last works the artist exhibited in the Consistorio de León under the title Locutorios and that we can see now in the Palacio de San Esteban reach an important dramatic level. Previous Lidó’s works were interpreted as little emergent protuberances, signs that subtly stack out from the wall, almost as bas-reliefs. These new pieces jump out of the wall trying to meet the spectator in diagonal trajectories and fragile directions with a highly three-dimensional sense. It seems that Lidó subverts in his own way the Renaissance canon of contemplation that avant-gardes destroyed, and, as I referred at the beginning of this analysis, to the frontal point of view, the one that forces us to stand in front of the work of art, as if it was an Albertian window. That makes us
feel threatened by those shining beings that seem to be thrown out of the wall. This is Lidó Rico’s trapt hat strikes and disturbs us, surprises and frightens us. He uses a stage resource with a high dramatic reliability. I remember that recent canoe, Explorer 515-516, that walls spitted violently. Behind that normal appearance of the reason, the banality of the subject, a canoeist making a great effort to advance violently, there is a tormenting plot, something that we can notice in the character’s face.

Telephone booths. Cold and gloomy places that arose together with the phenomenon of immigration, telephone booths are spaces to contact with relatives or friends in home countries at very reasonable prices. Lots of these premises have become a meeting point for different communities, but at the same time lots of them are a desperate option, the urgency, the need to talk to somebody. Telephone booths soon become a synonym for loneliness and in many cases they imply violent connotations, because they take the subject to a limit experience. Lidó Rico stresses the figure of the telephone, directly related to telephone booths, and he describes it as an indivisible extension of our own body, a prosthesis, another joint. For the artist communication, or
in this case the lack of communication, is one of the most evident symptoms of human alienation. Talking on the phone is one of the most logical everyday experiences. In this sense, the telephone is a basic tool in Lidó’s vocabulary, an accurate and precise weapon.