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The Triumph of Death

Limited to one hundred copies, illustrated with four engravings by JC Alvarez Cabrero, Mario Cervero, Antonio Cid and Fermin Santos Lopez. Foreword

Francisco Alba.

twenty-five different poets spoke about a topic in common: a muerte. A view of multiple muerte, resumed again, this time by contemporary authors, "living authors"

Almuzara
Pablo Javier Alvarez Martínez Santiago
Bertault
Jose Maria Castrillon
Antonio Cid
G. Hermes Donia
Fatima Fernandes Mendes
David Miguel Angel Fueyo

Javier Gómez F. Granda
Teo Hernando
Carlos Iglesias Diez Itza

Estrella Jaime Luis Martín Rodrigo
Ceferino Montañés
Olaya
Francisco J. Joaquin Picon
Pay
José Luis Jesus Santos
Piquero López José Luis Sevillano

David Suarez, Eva Vaz
Suarón
Ana Vega Néstor Villazón

Size: 28 x19 cm.

printed on paper Prints Alfa Super 250 gr. Texts
Torreón paper 160gr.

Price: 250 € + 4% VAT.

fragment of the introduction of Francisco Alba:

Modern man is an invention. Where to go look there? Not appear to be in the individual existence specifically, each of us, rather we look at the statistics, social networks, on the trail left by their costs or the image that records the surveillance camera. We look at the election polls, the voice of the press in the capital that banks move and insurance companies in the car sales figures. The man has been the same as the electron. Initially seen as a discrete entity until quantum physics was determined that a probability cloud. It was not specific but vague. Man as an individual entity, concrete, positive, has disappeared while we continue to hurt the wheels and we continue falling in love ... and die.

That death is historical scholars know the culture. Do not see it the same way primitive man's death that the man of the Gothic cathedrals, the savage of New Guinea that the Wall Street speculator. There were times that lived obsessed with death: in the fourteenth century, during the black plague that ravaged Europe, representing death as a skeleton crawling with his scythe and hourglass, the bishop, the soldier King, the maid, the Pope, the peasant and the pauper. That is, every living creature. Death does not respect anyone. It was the dance of death that all social classes were forced to dance. War, famine and pestilence have always been the calamities that afflict men. In our age there is death only nominally. We can trace their obituaries in the newspapers, but did not see his face. We whisked death. In the West, death is an administrative process that is not safe from the bureaucracy. We have tamed death. The temples of contemporary death are functional establishments called morgues where each decedent is assigned a room. A television shows the cubicle in which the body is. There is an allocated space and time to mourn the dead. The mourning will disappear from our clothing, as the painful memories that should be buried as soon as possible. No sign of the skull. Death has become abstract. [...]