PRESENTS
LENGUA Extranjera by SALOMÉ CORONEL
April 23rd - April 30th
Curated by Danielle Juliao & Martin Isaza
Lengua extranjera (Foreign Language) emerges from a succession of dislocations. From painting, her natural language, Salomé turns to the photographic image. From the city, she moves to the port. From asphalt, she surrenders to sand. From the mountains and their fixity, she travels to the seas of unpredictable textures. And from the chiming, colorful Spanish of Valparaiso, she finally leaps to the sometimes gray French of the port of Marseille.
Repetition, more than a simple motif, is also a necessity. A lifeline. A minimal certainty. At one of the windows, a man holds a hose and glances sideways. Although we can’t see it, we somehow sense a plant outside the frame. This same image is repeated three times. An ellipsis. As if marking a pause, or better yet, as if hinting at a distant future. Thanks to repetition, we can imagine that the plant grows out of frame. In the red passe-partout. And so, one day everything no longer feels so strange. The foreign language begins to fill with familiar sounds. And the distant landscapes slowly become populated with familiar shapes.
Excerpt from curatorial text by pablo guarín robledo
Exhibition took place in Bogotá, Colombia
EXHIBIT LENGUA EXTRANJERA
Curated by Danielle Juliao & Martin Isaza
Lengua extranjera (Foreign Language) emerges from a succession of dislocations. From painting, her natural language, Salomé turns to the photographic image. From the city, she moves to the port. From asphalt, she surrenders to sand. From the mountains and their fixity, she travels to the seas of unpredictable textures. And from the chiming, colorful Spanish of Valparaiso, she finally leaps to the sometimes gray French of the port of Marseille.
Repetition, more than a simple motif, is also a necessity. A lifeline. A minimal certainty. At one of the windows, a man holds a hose and glances sideways. Although we can’t see it, we somehow sense a plant outside the frame. This same image is repeated three times. An ellipsis. As if marking a pause, or better yet, as if hinting at a distant future. Thanks to repetition, we can imagine that the plant grows out of frame. In the red passe-partout. And so, one day everything no longer feels so strange. The foreign language begins to fill with familiar sounds. And the distant landscapes slowly become populated with familiar shapes.
Excerpt from curatorial text by pablo guarín robledo
Exhibition took place in Bogotá, Colombia
WORKS ON VIEW
