October 14th to November 11th, 2022
Vista da Exposição. Photography: Bruno Lopes
Susana Rocha e Beatriz Coelho
It is customary to say "there is a line that separates..." - followed by any two words placed in opposition for the convenience of the speaker. This line is drawn in order to validate a moral judgment illustrated through a supposed incompatibility between two things in tension, one that is tolerable and one that is obscene. Hence, we are familiar with expressions such as “there is a line that separates extravagance from indecency", or "there is a line that separates leisure from laziness"; or even “there is a line that separates a napkin from an extractor hood” – Oh yeah! Now tell me if I'm right or wrong, the latter I bet you've never heard.
The human species is obsessed with setting limits, and that's the only way it seems to be able to to bear the world. Every day we agree on limits as abstract as borders between countries, with laws or even with rules of good education. If on the one hand they may seem absurd, it is probably because of these conventions that, against all odds, we are still alive. It's just that stupidity also has limits and, therefore, instead of gladiate every day for an apple under the tree, we cooperate on a large scale to make sure there are apples every day in the supermarket.
The limit is the place where shapes tend to touch. It is a place of exchanges, the space that is left: the in between. If we zoom in a lot, "in between" becomes a wide avenue where you can see the lights of cars and bicycles, and the deafening noise of planes passing overhead. low altitude. This avenue is lined with buildings, some taller and others smaller; some in good condition others in works. There are cafes, bars and restaurants, although it is already quite noticeable that the majority of it just wants to please tourists.
What is left between two shapes when they touch? No. What is between two shapes when they transgress? I haven't decided yet if "in between" disappears or if it's all that is left.
I rarely go to Facebook these days. But when I do, I see videos of hydraulics presses crushing things in slow motion. There's a Hollywood thriller in the form how the hammer advances on the object to be victimized. Honestly the pleasure I find in these videos is not in the moment when the objects succumb, but in the tension of the forms, which
for 1 or 2 seconds it seems like it could last forever.