Kacero’s production is so varied and polymorphic that one might well think that with each new series the artist has split in two, becoming someone else but remaining himself as he sets off processes that run through his oeuvre: the copy, repetition, translation, continuity, immanence, and disruption. In his production, art and life come together. Some of his works even require the presence of the body, but never the biography or the gesture that is the mark of the artist’s having been present. If any trace of him is there at all, it is as an interface that distances him: Borges’s handwriting, the PVC in which he wraps objects, or the “character” of the typist or the compulsive muertito. It is through mediations of this sort that Kacero intervenes on the rules of art to critically focus on how artistic prestige is constructed. These appropriations, copies, and rewritings are markers in a permanent passage that seems to absorb an artist who has no doubt that there are parallel worlds but no illusion that there are any bridges connecting them.
With gestures so minimal they are almost imperceptible, he takes hold of, but never possesses, some of what surrounds him: public spaces, paratexts found in books, forms of graphic design, literary and philosophical culture, and names of the world’s most celebrated museums and of the people he knows.
But Kacero not only takes hold, he also invents and puts forward. In many of his works, he creates a symbol, a word, an object, that he multiplies and donates to the endless universe to fill in its voids. Somewhere between the ominous and the humorous, the tender and the erudite are the bits of metaphysical nonsense into which Kacero’s art hurls itself.