There is something natural and expansible in the attitude of Nagore, Camilo, Sara, Iker and Iñigo when they work. It makes me think about the intensity of the transitions from one medium to another, from one context to another, from one meaning to another. The unsettled, the fluid and the unpredictable that transform what we believe and what we believe we want.
These are processes that address and fill what might seem to be empty; they grow like grass, among and in the midst of other things. And also under those things. From top to bottom; from bottom to top. On the sides. They approach them. Perhaps they spill over.
This exhibition could have been called Mi si appiccicano le nuvole; there was talk of the possibility of something happening (between us, between things), without really knowing what, and so moving “hands like clouds”. But the presence of a friend, the name of an acquaintance, and the sound of two words carried more weight. A premonition. UNDER GRASS.