Boom!… and your head explodes. From its interior come out streamers and confetti that are pieces of the most intimate of a lot of shared feelings. A celebration of cut-outs, drawings, references and spaces yet to be imagined where dance becomes dance and where the noise of the street overlaps with the whispers of the garden of the house that, without doors, extends to the sea.
A game of remnants, of blankets and mantras. A constellation of cross-references like a game that can never end, because infinity is defined as something that will never let itself be defined. The texts fade, the open windows let in the sunlight and mark the hours of the day with the heat of its variable intensity. A necklace. A necklace of windows1 . In them you enter and leave, you sleep and wake up. Bodies, forms and memories relate to each other like layers without apparent sense in which protocols and hierarchies of strokes and whispers are broken.
Julia and Pablo and María and David and Nico and Federico …. Jacobo and Miguel and Cristina and Laia and Elisa… And Javi and Mar and Eva and Azucena and Elan and Gemma and Sahatsa and Pablo… Juan and Antonio and Mabi and Diego and Itziar and Ana Laura and Manu and Eva and Teresa… And Sonia and Urbano and Eco and Kike and Pedro…
How to be part of this journey between geographies, histories and minimal gestures? How to build a unity composed of multiple fragments/affects, without closing the possibility for new ones to come and join in and mess it all up again? This is the risk to which we are happily exposed.
The drawing led the sculpture by the hand to a hidden corner where, by showing it some photographs and moving images, they imagined stories full of true lies. It was the dim light of an inner courtyard that let us guess what they were conspiring there. It was exactly that: the experimental exercise of freedom* .
* Poem VII “The earth is blue like an orange…” by Paul Éluard in L’Amour La Poesie, Paris, 1929. 2 In “O bicho-da-seda na produção em massa” by Mário Pedrosa, 1967.