The pictures of life go past our eyes, turning things into a different sense, taste and color everytime, to have a small or big significance and to blend into a whole group called life; feelings many times pinned into our memory, in a more or less unconscious way, playing with themselves, mixing up and becoming something different: our memories.

This photographic work suggests to enter in that place. There are parts of lived, seen and felt things suddenly joined, split, and related in a new space, making another story to appear, another universe. Between them there are links more or less obvious, connections either present or imaginable. The significance here is that the thing that has started to be formed, has to be completed and turned into another thing inside the personal wolrd of the one who comes near it, so he's approached in a place unknown and familiar at the same time, a place where thoughts are even more abstract, where the memories are mixed and limits are lost.

The deliberate ambiguity in David Jiménez's minimalist pictures is, as well, a declaration of principles. These pictures apparently lack interest, and seem to enjoy a complicity code only transmitted to the audience after a long time of observation -pictures hiding behind visual spans and acquiring hypnotic properties after the smallest lapse of attention. They don't give any obviousness, but their evocative abilities cover the mundane with a poetic halo.

In his work, there's a persistent look towards our attention's limits, an ecstatic look which finds fascinating elements in the most trivial elements.

His pictures emerge slowly from the silence. Seen one by one could make you think they're taken by chance, but the whole of his work shows a private, coherent and recognizable language. There is no mention to time, but its absence turns the things photographed in memories visible mutations -memories from instants, from lived or imagined experiences, all of it symbolized through ellipsis.

The development process in his pictures is the result of a deep knowledge in the nature of photographic language. His personal aesthetics sublimate most of the evolution experimented by photography in the last 30 years; it incorporates the hermetecism in Robert Frank's polaroids and pot-beat poetry from Bernard Plossu, with reminiscences to the best of Ralph Gibson in the 70s. David Jiménez has moved away from the descriptive nature of Photography to depict modestly the inner stratum in the human being. His pictures show a subtle, fluent, calmed down introspection, in open understanding with the uncontrollable character of feelings.

David Jiménez uses such a tautological mean as Photography to make a semantic loop and put it into service of the ethereal's representation. The delicacy of the messages inside this pictures is really the invisible structure he uses to build other universes. Because in the end, all his pictures talk about him, making a metaphorical description of him, and allow us to recover those pieces of our own memories, displaced to a place apart from our conscience and our verbal definitions.

Alejandro Castellote.

These little pieces symbolize scenes from the family space and from the places in which David Jiménez lives day by day. Of course, it's not coincidental the fact that he returns to this subject, as we've perceived this almost metaphysical obsession earlier in his work. Here predominates the same devotion to little things, the same love to the abstract, the same concision at the service of the investigation about the surrounding space.

It is interesting to hear the presence of silence these pictures inspire. A silence which isn't anything else than a sinking, a paradoxical searching into pre-existent places, a wandering into the “spaces of solitude”. Not from the sadness, because this does not exist in his photography, but from the solitude in which the reflection about life and the urge to find a place for it, are based.

To be honest, this introspective relation wuth the spaces we've lived attracts me strongly. Maybe because it creates in me feelings similar to the ones contained in the words of the philosopher Gaston Bachelard: “The house is our little corner in the world. Thanks to the house, lots of our memories sleep under a roof, and although the house is a bit complicated, with basements and attics, corners and halls, our memories find shelter more and more characteristic. To them we will return in our reveries for all of our life... because the places in which the reverie lived, come back by themselves in a new reverie”. In the case of David Jiménez, it seems those shelters were never erased from his memories, although the respective spaces are deleted forever from his present. The shelters stand still in him. It introduces us the places in which he lived and tries to transfer the atmosphere, the temperature and -why not?- its little secrets. Therefore, the houses, to the audience as to the author, become an iconographic source mainly mental, oniric, presented in an unstable way.

Roland Barthes, when looking at the picture of a Charles Cliffort house, entitled Albambra, confesses: “this old picture moves me just because I'd like to live there. This wish has very deep roots in me and I don't know them... Whatever... I wish to live there, with pleasure. For me, landscape portraits have to be habitable, not just visual.

It is enough with the tree shadows cast in a window's curtain, the tiles in a bathroom, wrinkled clothes hanging in the rack, the kitchen table, the mattress leaning against the wall or a cloud in the sky, and we suddenly move to familiar spaces in which we probably have lived. That's why I like so much these pictures, because I feel I've lived as well in those places.

Nina Kassianou.