SOBRE LAS CONSTELACIONES QUE NOS ATRAVIESAN, MÓNICA ESPINOSA

From the drawing to the actions, to the video, to the object, to the words… A fact is that all things are altered by others, the impossibility of sustaining is unleashed; someone sitting from a mountain is observing the lights that come from the dead, perhaps from the millions of insects that have stopped flying, their eyes tense between nothingness and infinity, yawning. From his knees emanate geometric figures that lie in the air. Someone blows to scare away the fluff that comes to impregnate their secrets, acts as if everything were an infinite suspicion. Someone else inside a typical Mexican carnival costume raises his arm in the direction of the sun and wonders if it is behind him or in front of him, above or below, without reaching any conclusion. Planes saturated with energy and unfolding movements are built from such situations, corrupting their apparent stillness with unexpected elements. They happen, layers of the world, there will always be one layer after another, one world after another. loose energies. It is curious how ordinary the lost energy turns out to be that we seem not to notice it, in the opposite sense there is a strange fascination for inventing machines that seek to generate perpetual movement, our daily actions traversed by rhythms and choreography may be the closest thing to that eternal movement but altered. we ignore. With or without our attention the universe happens. An active universe and a sleeping one. A basic science experiment for children. There is always a mechanism in motion generating energy and we only see the tip of all this, the little iceberg. It is touching to think of everything that is behind our backs and that we cannot see, a kind of organism with its own breathing caused by its particular movements, making an overflowing and uncontrolled machinery in many directions. Matter laughs at us. Someone pays attention to uncertainty and its effects, to those events that act in silence. Someone else recognizes the insignificant, the daily, as an artistic event, the right to ignore and err, to make mistakes, to stutter, to insecurity, boredom and passivity, to detachment, to learn less. Art as an encounter to remain alert for most of the time, still waiting for disappointment. The human making a mechanism, thus, each one of us with our daily acts is just one more cog in an extensive machinery called daily life.