The Wall

I began paying attention to him because he was often walking right in front of me. He would always come with friends who would walk all around us, something that started to happen more and more often. His friends would enter from all directions and talk about a great event: a project they were planning.

Later I learned that his name was Isauro. He would return constantly, walking in circles in front of me, although I actually didn’t say much. In fact, it wasn’t until after some time that he would visit me more often, accompanied by other people. They would talk about me, it seemed, while applauding and caressing me. Isauro would ask a few of them questions, like, “How long will it take?” or “How much will it cost?” He strongly insisted on quality, order, and time. I had no idea what he was referring to.

One day, Isauro arrived with a group of people who looked a lot like the ones who had built me and the whole house over 130 years ago. They started poking and tickling me in every spot; my lifelong roommates looked at me with jealousy and wondered why they didn’t receive the same attention. I blushed, since they had never before paid me so much mind.

Whenever Isauro approached me, it was as if I could read his thoughts. He had chosen me because I was at the end of the house, at the back of the room: a simple wall without even a window, door, or closet, or even a threshold for people to cross. I only served to delimit the space; perhaps for many that is no big deal, but Isauro noticed me.

They started by covering the space before me in plastic, with a long curtain placed from one side to another, about a meter away. I wondered what was happening. They also placed some cardboard and some sacks on the floor, as well as a ladder that stood ready to be moved from side to side.

Then, without warning, they started scraping me with a hammer and chisel, taking off all the finish. I felt vulnerable. No wonder the curtain! I didn’t see it coming. In just two days I was completely naked, displaying all my imperfections, my interior made of bricks, sillar blocks, and cement.

On Sunday I could barely rest. On Monday they woke me by splashing me with very cold plaster that gradually became solidified. They took out a lead sinker and used some guides in order to apply the mixture onto me from top to bottom. With a long aluminum arm they flattened the finish until it was completely even. Then with a trowel they finished tidying me up. In only two days I already had a new grayish skin that turned white as the plaster dried. And finally with sandpaper they polished me off completely, leaving me with a soft and smooth surface. Mar-ve-lous.

The truth is that everything happened very quickly, I was afraid, I felt that anything could happen, that I might fall apart or spout moisture. How embarrassing that everyone saw me get wet!

Fortunately things went very well. A first-class job, I couldn’t believe it! I was totally plumbed from top to bottom and evenly from side to side. My new skin, which at the beginning was wet, gradually hardened, as if I were a large liquid stone.

Now was I ready for anything! They could mount a painting on me or maybe a photo, a great photo! Even a shelf to put objects or who knows what else. Maybe they would project a video over my entire surface: my beautiful and impeccable new surface. But up until now I’ve looked like this, like a big plane, holding the air firmly against the other walls, being what I’ve always wanted to be, what I do best, what I am: a wall!

This text was part of the exhibition El aire entre las cosas (“The air between things”), which opened at Casa Maauad on November 28, 2015. Casa Maauad was a project developed between 2010 and 2017, coordinated by the artist Anuar Maauad. Its program included residencies and exhibitions that fostered dialogue between natural and international artists.

This work was with great affection conceived and carried out for the collective exhibition celebrating the end of courses for the class of 2014-2015 at the SOMA Educational Program. For more information, visit: https://terremoto.mx/el-aire-entre-las-cosas/.

Isauro Huizar