Events
Lost & Framed by Hans Dekker
Avinguda de Catalunya, 2
From 15th June to 30th October
Hans Dekker is a multifaceted artist, Dutch by birth but ever since que was a child he used to spend his summers in Mont-Roig as his family was related to Joan Miró. Now for the last few years he is made it his first residence.
In the past, he has worked as a screenwritter, tv program producer and as a interior designer and some of his designs have been published in trade magazines.
On this occasion, he will surprise us with an original work, which highlights the importance of the object found which now is incorporated in a new framed perspective. Discover the world of Hans Dekker in this peculiar format.
Who we are
artAMILL is the headquarters for the association that bears Carles Amill’s name.
The space is in Vinyols, a small village in Tarragona’s province where Carles stablished his art studio to the end of his life.
The association is a private, non profit, stablished a few years back, by a group of friends in his memory.
For Carles, art wasn’t solely a form of expression. He was also involved in the study and history of art, as well as his techniques and procedures.
The association mission…
About artAmill
An art gallery-workshop located in the very center of Vinyols I els Arcs.
A precious town within Baix Camp, right next to Reus,
and about a hundred kilometers south of Barcelona.
Why here
Vinyols was the spot chosen by Carles Amill in 1999 to set up his art studio.
It’s a quiet village at the skirt of soft hills looking at the Mediterranean sea.
Vinyols is growing as a dorm for the more industrial areas of Reus
and Tarragona but keeps its charm and is very conveniently
located, at 100Km South of Barcelona.
Elegy for Carles Amill
by Mick Stern, April 2004
He lived in caves in gypsy neighborhoods, cavernous studios without much light except the light from his paintings.
One night in Brooklyn he invited me to remove my shoes and walk shut-eyed across a canvas laid out on the cement floor to feel the voluptuous thickness of pigment through the feet of my soul.
It was after his blue period of potatoes and stone walls, but before the architectural facades and drawings of fire.
He lived his vocation like a medieval monk, didn’t understand the big hurry of modern life.
