All of this is what I saw and do not remember having seen, also what really matters to me without having intended to give it importance. This is what I am irremediably.
Ideas leave my body, they become strokes before becoming words and phrases. Images pass through me.
I must sit far away and decode my language, all those faces that are my face.
I feed on mistakes repeated a million times until they become true messages.
I am myself and my non-participation. The solitary life and the abandonment of the word, the confrontation with myself and the thought through images.
My face is a portrait in the urban landscape. Sheltered and exposed. I wander through the city and see in passing the layers of writing on the walls, the memory of others accumulates on the periphery of my vision. I interrogate the materials as if they were an extension of my own.
I think of others who, like me, transit and inhabit a transformable space and what each one leaves in their wake. The story of a brick turned into misery is, for me, a good starting point.
Curatorial text by Héctor San José
