Resuellos
Instrucciones para una escritura balbuceante
La obra explora la memoria, las fronteras del lenguaje y la voz mediante performances con alcarrazas cerámicas hechas del barro que preparé de la montaña, que emiten un silbido evocador al contener agua. Este sonido conecta con la memoria del territorio y se pregunta por las historias que los rios, como archivos en movimiento, podrían contar, como el Chicamocha, podrían contar sobre mi padre, quien vivió y falleció en ese paisaje. La pieza busca invocar y dialogar con la memoria del paisaje y de quienes lo habitaron a través del lenguaje del agua.
Resuellos I: de río (2023)
La activación en el río Magdalena en Honda, Colombia, fue parte del Salón Internacional de Arte del Agua, donde fui galardonada con el primer lugar por decisión del jurado
Panting: Instructions for Stammering Writing
Ceramic sound instruments, video essay, and performance
Exhibition "Other Gestures in Language: Gnawing the Animal Frontier"
XVI Annual Meeting of the Comparative and Continental Philosophy Circle
Pontifical Javeriana University
Bogotá, Colombia
2023
*move the cursor over the video sequences*
My father grew up in the countryside. Since there were no other children to talk to, he would speak to frogs and trees. He learned to make an ocarina by cupping his hands to measure distances with its sound and let himself be found when he hid. He also knew how to communicate with silence. At the age of five, he would pronounce words as if his tongue were heavy, always threatening to release a sigh.
As a child, my father tried to teach me how to make the ocarina with my hands. I never learned because I didn't need a sound that would resonate in the distance to find each other, as there was no such need.
When he died, I cupped my hands and blew, and there was a sigh, but not a whistle. I thought of my hands as an acoustic space: I cupped them, separated them, measured the weight and pressure, and blew. A timid moan emerged, an almost-word. I quickly brought my hands to my ear, as if trying to catch it and listen. I remembered my grandmother handing me a seashell and asking, "Sweetie... do you want to hear the sea?" And I listened to the sea. The shell was a portal. My hands were too, the void was sonorous... my hands like a little house of wind, my hands like a cave of babbling. How can I speak to frogs, trees, and ghosts?
Resuellos I: de río (2023)
La activación en el páramo Guacheneque, en Villapinzón, donde nace el río Bogotá y en la ciudad en la que resido, me llevó a reflexionar sobre la erosión del suelo y las múltiples sequías que afectan el área.
La obra también formó parte de la exposición "De la urdimbre al nudo" en la Pontificia Universidad Javeriana.
