“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”

- Virginia Woolf

Discover. Explore. Let your self go through the sound. Be amazed.

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Jonathan Lerma H.


Dalí; the monster

Dalíthe monster

It is Sunday afternoon. God takes an infusion of violets for dessert to complete his festive meal, emits vaporizations of an inexpressible sacred odor and summons all the angels to sing their favorite Bach chorus for Him.


Shortly after, Salvador Dalí arrives, with permission from purgatory, arranges his easel and works on the portrait of The Creator. According to Robert Descharnes, co-author of, “Dalí. L’ oeuvre peint complet”, “Salvador is the only modern painter who has received a commission from God”. We can not account for that commission, but there are hints of Dalí’s approach to his own work. At his thirty seven years of age, Dali wrote in his autobiography: The secret of Salvador Dalí life. “In order to conceal and at the same time, reveal, my method is: to subtly hint at the possible presence of internal injuries, while at the same time, and in a completely different location, plucking the bare tendons of the human guitar”.

This constant pushing and plucking of human experience, was considered by the stablishment to be sacrilegic. Dalí and his imaginery were a monster, a creature feeding from the unknow, ready to open our scars and fears. but Marcel Katz, an acclaimed art dealership, entrepreneur, and the youngest authorized dealer of one of the largest Salvador Dalí bronze sculpture collection, AKA “The Art Plug” is not afraid to look straight at the face of adversity and transform it into an opportunity to raise human expression. He has partnered with French NY-based art consultant and Salvador Dalí expert, Bertrand Epaud, to create an historical ticketed art exhibition: “Dalí, The Real Surreal”, in Miami, Florida.

“Dalí, The Real Surreal”, an historical ticketed art exhibition that will ran for eight weeks at The Confidante Miami Beach. An exhibition that not only featured a collection of rare and treasured modern paper works and bronze table-size and museum size sculptures, but also a Rotating Local Art Exhibit Program, a new selection of surrealist-inspired art pieces by artists including: Nico Suave, Nick Cruz, Tiago Magro, Grabster, Lefty Out There, ABVA, Wij, Haiiileen, and The Art Plug himself. A truly remarkable effort to boost the local arts.

The iconic works were displayed all throughout the property’s public spaces including the entire first floor of the hotel, cabanas and bungalows. “The Real Surreal” were beyond the concept of art as an experience for only a few. Marcel Katz, Bertrand Epaud and The Confidante Miami Beach extended this invitation to everyone. Creatives, Students, Teachers, Front Line Workers, Military and Police were all welcome at the show for free. The Confidante created a Dalí inspired food and beverages menu that was available throughout the hotel. To ensure the show as a truly immersive experience. the exhibition ran a Full Virtual Show for free to everyone who could not leave their places. The message behind this initiative was clear. Art can change the world. Art can push culture, art can make joy and happiness accessible to all.

According to Bertrand, also Project Manager of the Dalí Universe for the United States and the Middle East, organization presided by Beniamino Levi, Italian art dealer and collector who worked with Dalí in the 60’s. “For the first time, The Art Plug in collaboration with The Confidante Miami Beach presented this iconic Dalinian work, offering the extraordinary opportunity of admiring an ingenious sculpture, full of symbolism and hidden meanings”.

Is important to remember Dalí himself lived in a reality similar to this, filled with war and death, displacement of societies, and constant questioning of existence, but he did not keep quiet, instead, he raised his voice, his made a statement to the world and left a big influence in his explorations of subconscious imagery and the development of his artistic style. Now is perhaps time for us to do the same, to spread a message of hope, is time for us to raise our voice, to say, culture wont stop.

Jonathan Lerma H.

1410 1128 Jonathan Lerma H.

The Mystic Poems

The Mystic Poems

”A silhouette, winged biology without vertebrae, demands the flood. You laugh, but the jungle throw away their red bodies. They disolve their flesh to be born again.”


You are not here

every night
although it fades
I drink your sweet
behind the world

my tongue pierces the darkness
and without eyes I bless your body

I can smell your breath

your legs on the cotton

this sheets

the grave where I now visit you

protects you from the waters of time
that washes our memory

The mirror

no one knows the other side of the mirror
not even the sage

nobody takes care
of those who wander
on its canvas

they are naked
in front of doors
from another land

in their dreams we see them

in their dreams they smell us

no one knows the other side of the mirror
an unnavigable sea of eyes
haunts for our flesh
the gate of reflections.

The death of all names

I can only hear music between the bodies
sacred sounds


scars that reveals other world

a space where the death of all names

is our victory.

Jonathan Lerma H.

2732 2048 Jonathan Lerma H.

Keep Silence

Keep Silence

The wind was shaking the trees and offering their branches to the sky in a raging dance, but the distance kept swallowing the rustle, transforming the movement into a noiseless ritual.

The office was silent too. I got up, walked to the window and lit a cigarette. Right in front of me, behind the glass, the roof of a four-story house was flying almost like a kite over houses and buildings. Suddenly, a door often forgotten because of it’s heights, but never the less, a door, was open. What I saw froze my heart. Surrounded as I was, by building, tall houses and all sort of offices with corridors, huge windows and balconies, I heard nothing, not a cry or a word of astonishment, nothing.

I approached the corridor and asked Marta: “Did you see it!?” Her window was so large that it was impossible for her not to see it, the zinc sheet was literally gliding in front of her between the buildings. Instead of an answer her eyes widened.

Humans are not wired for disruption. The blow is withering. An endless void takes control over the blood fluid. Muscles that support the jaw are weakened and the brain, in a last attempt to defend its integrity, force the eyes to receive as much light as possible. Light as understanding. Light to see. Light to be a part of reality. But Marta is blind and dead. Like most, reality slips to her senses. She does not hear or see, but prides herself on bestowing to everyone an empty smile of complacency. I smiled at her, turned around and went back to the desk just as I got up, alone and without answers.

Nature certainly shares my affliction. From the moment that door was opened, the atmosphere changed. Something is cooking in the thick air. It has not rained for months and the groups of pigeons that used to share the roofs, now argue from neighboring terraces, raging and killing each either in the most violent fights. Meanwhile, in the office, everything goes as usual. It is four-fifty in the afternoon and we are about to leave, but in silence.

Jonathan Lerma H.

1410 1128 Jonathan Lerma H.
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