A body explodes. We open our eyes and look at contours. We concatenate them: the sun hits the back of a worm crawling on a plant, a tear slides on the face of a bird without falling to the ground yet, face to face, a turtle dialogues with a person, a black cat lying down shows the fullness of its finitude, a man carries a petite horse; two people walk the pastures while at background a house burns. Expectant undergrowth everywhere; unavoidable ability to destruction, that of the living.
Imagine the speed of the matter that covered the Roman city of Pompeii in the year 79. Here, all pictorial narratives are interrupted by the color that momentarily suspends meaning and leads us to strengths. A wide open jaw – the sound of a meow, a rumble. Can a volcano be invoked?, the Vesuvius, to make the color vibrate to the rhythm of an eruption? We pay attention. What happens on the surface of the canvases? How to observe the forces in painting with eyes and body?
The space invites us to dwell on the touch established between the songs of the colors. Do not caress or hide the canvas: flood it! Reds and magentas insist; they cry and consume everything. Greens await yellows, oranges, pinks, and purple come in. The chromatic forces tempt the balance so that a body
overflows into another without losing shape. The tone is set for the rewrite. Floria González goes to the murals of Pompeii to talk about what is one’s own that is never one. Tripping over history to look at the ruin. Be amazed at what remains—linear interruption. In one of the paintings, we see the adolescent body of Aion, god of eternal time, without beginning and end: the open mystery that holds everything living and everything dead in the same intensity.
The cosmos is chaos, and the individual, material history: the intimate is narrated together with the earthly powers. Therefore, the grammar is shared. The home protects and suffocates simultaneously; it is an enigma and path, the body that breathes and oxidizes, the caress that scratches.
La Casa del Tiempo Roto [The House of Broken Time] conjures up a world of tension in scenes where the front gaze opens, like a crater, the portal that takes us to the vortex of motifs that repeat themselves at irregular intervals. Flower, family, snake, wheel…
Facing the canvases, each update opens the possibility of walking life to re-explode differently, knowing that memory will come and reorder the flows.