reviews

  • Ángeles Marco

    Galeria Carles Taché

    Out of a half-open aluminum suitcase comes a captive voice that penetrates the three exhibition rooms. The voice is that of the artist whose physical absence is thus negated. From the heights of a strategically placed iron beam, the voice appropriates the surrounding space. Its fragile materiality consists of an insistent stammering, barely recognizable as a phrase, broken by laughter that hampers its progress, forcing it to repeat the first and middle syllables of each word. The voice becomes a machine that creates “time,” each syllable representing an unequal fraction of time measured in words.

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