Entre el desfile te llama la atención un edificio a medio construir.

Está envuelto en andamios, circundado por esas mallas de seguridad que se

llaman media sombra. Nada más parecido a una ruina que un edificio en construcción,

pensás, y entonces, ves bailar entre los escombros a tres jóvenes campesinas.

El nervio óptico. María Gainza

Tears from a cow unable to feed her calf; a restless calf tugging at the rope tied to its mother’s leg; an enchanted horse, another collapsing; and a thicket that conceals everything. These are denaturalized scenes, transformed into artifacts as they collide with the hardness of metal and the coldness of fractured, discarded devices.

In dialogue with the ancient—from the earliest Paleolithic measuring tools to references to Assyrian and Egyptian reliefs—Sediments proposes a reality in which nature and industry converge. By addressing the ways in which human beings shape and instrumentalize the physical world, these works configure fragile, precarious structures that register memory, time, and matter. From this process emerge silenced maps; a fractured grid that once sought to contain the sun; a bone of glass that longs for repair; and hands that remember what it feels like to touch.

Each piece is a container, a palimpsest, a pillar bearing its own vulnerability. The eggshell cracks, the map folds, the metal oxidizes, the tool is rendered obsolete. This condition is inseparable from their nature, and yet it is within this tension—and the urgency that runs through it—that ambiguity emerges, opening a space for repair and for the search for new ways of relating to the world.