Photo with Sandra, the girl of Pepe Perez, the older brother of Pédro Perez, whose godfather he was.

 

 

Manuel Diez Matilla: a forgotten fate

 

 

Psychoanalysis of the work of Manuel Diez Matilla

 

3th part

Revision in Saturday, December 8th, 2012

By Christian Diez Axnick

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Touch with the sweat,

You careful and with love.







My father had made the lounge of the independents with
Prudencio Salvador Asencio, a Catalan surrealist. This one was of the family of
Micaela Asencio, the maid of my priest of baptism, the R.P. Don Primitivo
Belver, one of his close friends, as was him father Charnin in Montmartre, a
Swiss.

 

I had spent one fortnight with them one year before the olympics of Barcelona and we
had visited Catalonia. The maid of the priest as said my father, in reference
to Anny Cordy's song which so much made him laugh. Since the death of Primi, I
called her, the bishop's palace paid her a sum of money of which she would have
been able to touch nothing if she had let things continue so. Everything almost
crossed her under the nose. She said to me that my father was " a padrazo
", and it is true that he was rather possessive with his sons. Micaela was
always a very funny woman, endowed with a strong sense of humor.

 

 

 

 This Prudencio's picture prefigures you he the disappearance of Primitivo? A creature with a skeleton of
sardine dried up on the dry and dry desert?

Doubtless.

And this one is reminiscent of the priesthood and of the church service, with some
allusions to the Passover.

 

 

 

 

 This one is very interesting, with these three chaps in front of a deformed mirror, on a
checkerboard. The time dilates and deforms, up to the space far off. The mirror
has three reflections, the characters duplicating, with a sort of peacock
behind them.







This one treats again the space who the nature survives and struggles as she can.
The following one evokes the time, the music and the temporo-spatial
deformation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The picture above is more of iberian inspiration and warrior. The following one is a sort of allegory of the
freedom.







I have to say it, Catalonia is a very beautiful region or I had advised to my father
to come to paint. Primi and Micaela showed me a magnificent villa which their
owner had given them to guard.

The view since the top on the terrace was extraordinary, and I slept in a fabulous
bed, a bed Wiking, a magnificent and majestic, solid and massive wooden room, a
real marvel of cabinetmaking. The villa was magnificent, a jewel as we find there
only to Sitges, just a step from the beach.

I suffered a lot when the Catalans of Samaranch and Maragall obtained the games
in the general indifference, them who exterminated half of Europe with the
Nazis, crossed off from the card the Baltic states, so participating in the
biggest massacres of mass of the history of the humanity as I have already said
it in the manual worker of introduction. I would have been satisfied with some
demonstrators in the street, one who several thousands would be necessary so
that democratic Europe wakes up finally. No cat in streets, which
disappointment, which shame for the pluralism and the class struggle.

 When I was for the faculty in 1983, we had 6 months of strike of the speakers, while the extreme left-wing
activists of the UNEF took 1:30 am over 2:00 am of conference, 3 months of
strike of the administration, 8 faculties come demonstrate in Paris, without
counting the thefts of U.V., the failure for the 20th consecutive year of the
university reform. The drama of the left, it is not to know how to suit
according to the objectives. Something is rickety, asymmetric, double standards
as to the right. All this obliged me to leave the university for the army.

Today, nothing goes either, nothing evolved for lack of awareness. The reforms always
failed systematically. My mother goes to the Sorbonne in auditor on the other
hand.

I have to say, because a lot of people in my family was and are rather a socialist (Maruja, David) that
I have all the same Mr Lionel Jospin's rather good opinion. Ingo had been
invited in a banquet of the highly-rated of Tours I believe. They were some at
table. When I had arrived to Paris IV to join in Paris I, I had fallen on him
in 1983, and I had asked for directions in a way. Jospin had informed me. It is
a nice man, intelligent. His failure in the presidential election is not the
reflection of its human high qualities. One of my old classmates had him as
speaker several years. He had been taken to task in Palestine, so as Michèle
Alliot-Marie a few years ago. But globally, Lionel Jospin knew how to bring his
moderation to the left strengths.

Fortunately, I made this journey for the invitation of Primi one year before the games. I
was for a perfectly clear boycott, but we did not let us express us. My stay in
Catalonia is unforgettable, in Barcelona, in Tarragona, to Sitges, on the coast.
The Dali museum is magnificent.

The tapestry of the Creation in Girona is a unique room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Andrés Serrita, my old professor of flamenco, a close relation of Sabicas, was born in
the district gypsy of Barcelona, the poorest district. Sabicas is one of bigger
flamenquist of the history, with Carlos and Ramon Montoya, Escudéro, Paco de
Lucia, or even today Vicente Amigo. The father of André was also a big
guitarist of classic and flamenco.

This journey is the last one whom I made in Spain who I had the opportunity to be
with Primi, later I went to Toro in 2011. And
then when we see how Sarkozy vainly tried to plunder our national heritage, it
is necessary to face the facts, we are on the defensive in an unstable world in
the uncertain next days.

He proceeds with a modus operandi which consists in
dismissing people, in particular people who say themselves of left, or people
squalid, treacherous and upstart as Séguéla, all this troop of bootlicker.

I would have done well one year furthermore with Yvette Taborin in Paris I Tolbiac,

but the theft of my U.V. dissuaded me from continuing the archaeology and the history

 in a university who reigned the most complete anarchy. It is one of the last communist, Marxist
intellectuals, the last one must to have known the biggest Russian theorists,
French of the communism, the doctrine come from Germany, because Marx was a
German baron. But the Russians made even more hardly in theory. It was also a
big prehistorian and a traumatologist.

I would almost go so far as to say that after Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, she is the
last one of the left-wing intellectuals who had her speaker's pulpit, must to
have influenced the left-wingers.

 

The lounge of the independents, which my father made with Prudencio, because in the
period he wanted that I help him to sell in France, he had already made
prestigious lounges and his work were quoted, was it is necessary to say it a
failure. Nobody paid attention on us, nevertheless the work of Pruden is
remarkable. The expedition which we made knew no success. It is true as well that
my father did only expose paintings of small invoice. The view which we had on Mr
Lemoine's fields in the time who the promoters had not come yet. Since they
built in front of at our home. Before, there were fields everywhere all around.
He had also brought views of the museum Cortot which saw crossing so many
painters.

Renoir is the first one of them to have settled down in 12 street Cortot. My father
did not appreciate his painting. I live in street of Strasbourg in Arnouville
today.

Utrillo lived there also. Sometimes, drunk, he threw his brushes on the passers-by. Her
mother, Suzanne Valadon, came there also. She was from Limousin as Renoir.

 

Many of the others came, almost all the impressionists there, among whom Van Gogh,
Cézanne.

There is no single number of the street Lepic in Montmartre who celebrities did not
live.

Oneevening, we almost visited Dalida, but we did not dare.

I had to take up boards on the roof of my car and take all the load, Prudencio had
put and placed his paintings in small wooden caskets that he had made.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The journey was difficult. My father was particularly irascible. It was one of last
chances for him. The journey of the last chance.

Many people dream about independents, but only the celebrities take out there
financially.

Or still at the most some protesters, some modern, nonconformist artists, are a
surprise and sell. For it they benefit from a whole sales network and from
assured and developped loyalty customers.

It is the hard law of the market of the art. It is American businessmen and German journalists
who launched Picasso, in its debuts when he made quite a lot of etchings. The
market of the art has its codes. I I eventually loved Picasso, in particular
its magnificent painting " Massacre in Korea " which is to the museum
Picasso of Paris. It is the really committed work, that shows the anonymity of
the slaughters, the mockery which accompanies human rights. He dashed a lot in
France also, in the wash-shed. It is there that he painted the young ladies of Avignon
and Guernica I believe which is today in Madrid.

Prudencio, you will have noticed it, is as Catalan naturally influenced by Dali. Some of
his surrealist paintings carry numbers, figures, as the figure 7.

Figures have a place and a dominating meaning. Dali is really a monument of the
surrealism, as my father is a monument of the cellulosic aquatic and floral
landscapes, or the ochre and grey in the oil painting.

 

 

 

 (Detail of the carpet of the creation)



The painting of Dali is a clean, floodlit painting, who the subject occupies a
dominating place. As I said it, my father spent the last three years of what is
its career to the museum Cortot, for which he hated the director, Mr Charpentier,
what had paid him only half of its salary in three years.

He eventually was proved right in justice, in the term of two or three years of
procedure.

Carpenter bought himself the luxury to be invited in the time on the small screen, on
television, who he presented the sign of the Agile Rabbit. It was lead years,
years Mitterrand, years who Thierry Paulin terrorized the district, the worst
years which are.

 

My father stuck him a whole series of recommended, of lawyers, witnesses,
bailiffs.

Today, we are in a way in the inverse extreme, people are embarrassed, they do not
know any more to which saint to dedicate itself. Sarkozy locks the media,
dismisses the opponents alternately, the system is padlocked.

It is this bolt which it will be necessary to blow up at the appropriate moment. Too
many people find him intelligent, while he is the representative of the of the
worst systems of thought, one of the worst nationalisms of Europe. To bring out
him from there will be very difficult, and I do not still know if I could lead
this fight.

 

 An alternative solution, a global strategy, the will is needed to finish it with the current system. For
that purpose, the left must know how to at the same time forgive and know how
to reorientate its ideas.

She has to question himself.

How come that a painter as my father, whose production represents thousands of
paintings to the oil, pastels, acrylic, tables, furniture, folding screens,
without counting what he made with the clay of Téjar, how he can be made that
the society abandoned him, as it abandoned David, how we can arrive there  ?

 

It is the real question that it is necessary to have the courage to put. If we want
one day to restart on healthy bases, it is necessary to solve these questions.
A accompaniment is needed, that investors made something, and not the
profiteers, the speculators, the businessmen and the commercial without
scruples.

(Other detail of the carpet of the creation )

 

 

  We live in a world either people are divided, separated by their ideas and their interests,

or the differences revive. Everything is separated, divided up. The world knew
profound transfers since the 70s, since the end of thirty glorious which go
seems to me you it from 48 to 78. He will never be as before.

It is necessary to propose, to conceive a future, and not to cut itself from this
future, even if the times changed. I do not either want to make of demagoguery.
I shall like returning to the earth, Hanifia and I would want to buy a detached
house and to sell the apartment. I would like to return to brushes there, and
to stop this tempestuous and unbearable life who we keep you only two or three
weeks in the engineering consulting firm who you land.

 Yes, I would have to stabilize professionally. My big regret, as for Hanifia, is not to have been
able to have of child. And then, I should more work of my hands, and to drop a
little computers. It is necessary to strengthen our thin experiences.

The air of time is for the revolutions, but my generation, castes or classes by which I
passed, was not really able to express itself. The broadcasting is padlocked,
by Bouygues, by Berlusconi. All these white knights would have to make way a
little more for the people. They ever made nothing or raised the little finger so
that the current contemporaries can express themselves, take advantage possibly
of this great tool that is the broadcasting, or we do not serve more than as
petit fours and as appetizers to the guests on trays. Nevertheless, satellites,
it is everybody who pays them.

All swear only by the audience, argue as powerful media, but to short view and in
cyclical limits. We not were built nothing more with this system private and
closed on all the initiatives, or the presenters break of the ballast only of
time in other, and still, to cloud the issue better afterward and suppress the
revolutions in the egg. They make everything to remain in a system become today
archaic, television which does not correspond any more to our time and to the
problems to come, firmly in the hands of the power.