Suppose the tension between tradition and the avant-garde marked the ethos of the modern artist. In that case, the ethos of the contemporary artist is marked by a tortured and self-indulgent approach, embracing social movements, hobbies disguised as bodies of work, and, above all, an incessant need to establish commercial links with museums and galleries.

He was born in 1980 and escaped from the jaws of a religion that was not predominant in Mexico.

His early youth forced him to take charge of his beauty. He appeared in ephemeral and limited-edition gay magazines. He established himself as an emblem of eccentric fashion and hyperreal hospitality. He reigned in the places of eating and drinking that were opened for the aspirational and dominant classes of the Metropolitan Zone of Guadalajara. He loved rubbing shoulders with so-and-so, with artists such as-and-such, and residents of X's workshop: musicians and bon vivants of the international sphere.

He made an art out of his life—music, drugs, and dance.

We are told that we must judge with violet glasses the work of generations of sexist artists who produced at the cost of oppressing their muses. It is worth considering a DJ set in the context of Fine Arts, as classical beauty was often associated with fascism.

That in the face of the pain of others (remembering Sontag), we must process under the microscope every body of work that stinks of Zionism and, of course, cancel it.

Salvador is a generous Anti-Artist. He attends the exhibitions of his Non-peers with respect and humility. He enjoys the success of others. There is not a single hint of meanness in him. Any of our municipal glories would like to have a little of Salvador's human greatness. Also, any Buddhist practitioner would appreciate some of the serenity that Salvador and his fellow practitioners have in the face of adversity.

Since political correctness – the new face of double standards – has infiltrated social media, universities, and government institutions, especially those related to education, art, and culture, a recurring topic has emerged in the specific field of art: should we separate art from the artist?

In the case of Salvador González the answer is no, not even if one wanted to. Salvador has made art out of his [according to him] bad life: out of his clothes, out of his complex relationship with his mother and stepfather, out of his abstinence, out of his unbridled sex and masturbation. Above all, his work has metastasized with his obsessive reflection on class relations. His paradoxical condition of subordinate and peer. His passion and hatred for the elites can only be explained in the light of a chaotic work like Salvador's.

Paulo Gutiérrez

PALMA’s project room program is curated by Escombro.