Main Room
February 6 – March 24, 2018


1. All that walks on two feet is an enemy. Access to a country, a city, a neighborhood, a house, a room means, besides a route, a split of being incognito to being intimate. Such an approach predisposes that the acts and reflexes originated in the displacement correspond to the temporality in which that one stops, is mimicked with the space in turn. In this place, in each one, being is an element between that harmony: the country hides it, the city protects it, the neighborhood adopts it, the house invites it, the room confronts it. 2. All that walks on four legs, or has wings, is a friend. Inside nothing happens. One habitant is a host and visitor at a time. The walls are edges that converge to compress and decompress its breathing. The limits of the latent body are the margins of the habitat which, if broken, would have the exact size of the sharp object, its fist, its head. Nothing happens outside. Only one side remains active because nobody knows for sure about the existence of someone habiting the interior, and that someone doesn’t know the existence of the other imagining him from the outside of such a location that it seems never was. Here and there the country is idea, the city hope, the neighborhood is word, the house is ruin, the room is lie. 3. No animal will wear clothing. The day is the one that chases the day and the night is a distance that measures the same as the search. Misery is present at all times and everywhere, nothing covers it or knocks it down. It is a barricade that protests to the air, the stratum of the present that obstructs its quality of shadow that no longer fits and urges to disappear. Below and behind, the country advances and atrophies, the city proposes and sabotages, the neighborhood celebrates and betrays, the house refuge and entrap, the room comforts and repels. 4. No animal will sleep in a bed. The first movement generates the first sound. The darkness crackles to make way for the light. Architecture grows like a tumor that sticks to the less thoughtful things, where plants and insects solidify to belong to the complex. Hunger causes the slow impulse to leave and yet it leaves nothing behind: construction is rapidly incorporated because survival is a habit that does not allow waste but requires re-signification. The country is sold, the city is lent, the neighborhood is exchanged, the house is stolen, the room is burned. 5. No animal will drink alcohol. From recollection to invention and from urgency to strategy. From the nomad to the sedentary, the traces of his actions and actions without possible return, the inconsistency of success, the constancy of conformism, the statement and prayer repeated to nothingness. The country is stability, the City is monument, neighborhood is statue, the house is person, the room is animal. 6. No animal will kill another animal. What is it to be an animal? What is it to be a person? The animal is simply nature, with a place, but without more desire than the own survival. The person is unnatural, without place, and with the desire to be something, to be someone, to move away from the animal, to move away from itself, being like an animal, never being itself. Country of habitants, city of people, neighborhood of congeners, family house, room of itself. 7. All animals are equal. “The animals outside looked at a pig and then at a man, at a man and then to a pig and back at a pig and then at a man, and they couldn’t longer know which was which “. Rebellion on the farm, G. Orwell
Fernando Carabajal