paris

Gabriel Orozco

Galerie Chantal Crousel

The gallery was transformed into a sort of marketplace: On metal trestles topped by worn planks, terra cotta objects were arrayed in fairly large quantity. Of various shapes—long cylinders, balls, circles, cakes, and crowns—they at times evoked containers, loaves of bread, animals, or human limbs; their color, in turn, was that of wood, dough, or skin. The evocative and troubling power of these objects was lodged precisely in their fundamental ambiguity, reinforced by the forms’ metamorphoses into projected shadows. The unnameable objects bore the stories of their making legible on their surfaces: movements of pressure, twisting, or stretching; imprints left by the artist’s hands or other bodies; cracks; areas blackened by flames in the firing. From this series of processes, in the exchange between the body and the material, a shape is born, always unique and always brought into question—the

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