Juan Cruz Molas y Molas

I have always been interested in people who make things and who seem not to separate what they do too much from their own lives. When I was four, my father showed me The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, and perhaps something of that spirit stayed with me. Over time, I found people and artists who fed that way of looking at the world: Terry Gilliam, David Lynch, Werner Herzog, Daniel Johnston, Aaron Rose, and everything that Alleged Gallery, Alleged Press, and Beautiful Losers came to represent, among many others. Photographers such as Ari Marcopoulos and Ed Templeton as well. They are not simply artistic influences. They are ways of understanding how to approach life.
Spending time with artists, photographers, musicians, curators, cultural producers, and friends. Talking, having coffee, making music, sharing a barbecue, traveling, walking, wandering, going to exhibitions, talking for hours. Many times, I learned more from those experiences than from any formal setting. People like Marcos Zimmermann, Guillermo Franco, Julieta Franco, Aníbal Mangoni, Andrés Asia, Luis El Halli Obeid, Cristian Laborde, Ignacio Conese, Marcelo Barchi, Luciana Demichelis, Gaffacan, Kenis, and Juan Morán have all been part of that journey.
SUBTERRÁNEO was born in 2016, initially as an interview platform. It was an excuse to get closer to people I admired, ask them questions, and get to know their worlds. Over time, those conversations turned into publications, photographs, music sessions, exhibitions, trips, and collaborations. Some relationships lasted for years; others became friendships. SUBTERRÁNEO became my anchor and, without ever having a clearly defined plan, I gradually found a sense of purpose.
I believe in small dreams that build into bigger ones. Every interview, photograph, publication, exhibition, trip, or conversation was a small thing that, over time, became part of something larger. I am more interested in the journey than the prize, in the process than the result. Many of the things I have done were born simply from wanting them to exist. Harmony Korine once said, speaking about Gummo, that he wanted to make a film with images that were there simply because he wanted to see them. I have often felt something similar.
I don't know exactly how things will be from here on. SUBTERRÁNEO never knew either. What matters is to keep going: keep making, meeting people, learning, and searching for where to take that restlessness. Perhaps we simply need to move a boat over a mountain.