Essay
by César Esparragoza
Reading time
4 min
Sublimation is a transient state of aqueous bodies, signifying the transition from a solid to a gas (or vice versa). It’s akin to when dry ice begins to evaporate upon contact with water. In some cases, for sublimation and gasification to occur, an intermediary (B) is needed between the body (A) and the environment (C). Since it is impossible for me to survive such extreme temperatures and explore what living in a sublimated state would be like, I look —enviously— at life forms that manage to expand effortlessly.
Consider, for instance, colonies of SCOBY, a symbiosis of bacteria and yeast in water. These biofilms resemble a gelatinous leather. When a SCOBY is damaged and suffers a tear, it's only a matter of time and care before a new layer forms over the old one, reuniting the fragments that had come loose. So, although it appears to be a unified mass, it is, in fact, the result of countless bacteria dispersing and gathering within an aqueous space. In a sense, this work is intergenerational. However, once gelatinized, the colony’s process isn’t one of sublimation, but more like repeatedly freezing and thawing an ice tray throughout the day.
Sonia has spent years caring for SCOBY colonies. In Corteza líquida, her solo exhibition at La Nao curated by Lava, these colonies are housed in a water-filled tank, with a hose keeping everything in motion. The constant movement prevents the colonies from settling, keeping them in a state of errant suspension. After thousands of daily revolutions, they have broken off into large blocks, evidence of large-scale bipartition.
Now, considering sublimation once more, let’s apply the concept to the exhibition. In material terms, the SCOBY serves as the body to be sublimated (A), while the bacteria and yeast suspended in water represent the evaporated particles (C). To prevent condensation, there are two external "environmental factors": the hose providing constant motion, and, of course, Sonia’s care and attention (B). If we see Sonia as the additive preventing the SCOBY blocks from merging back together, we inch closer to understanding what a sublimated life might feel like.
This analysis reveals three key agents: a body to be sublimated (A), a catalytic agent (B), and a transformed-evaporated body (C). With this framework, we can better approach the phenomenon experientially. A sublimating body changes its environment, preventing condensation. Taking it a step further, staying in a sublimated state not only keeps us volatile but also turns us into environmental factors that facilitate the sublimation of other bodies, whether human or non-human. In broader terms, this means:
I hope this serves as a pretext to discuss our role in the environment, and, of course, our responsibility as bodies with these qualities toward others. For this reason, projects like Sonia’s don’t just delve into the fictions of science. Corteza líquida is not an exhibition about forming bacterial colonies (let alone combating them). Instead, it unveils our direct relationship with the ecosystems we inhabit and extends an invitation to engage with them.
Becoming aware of our role as bodies A, B, and C throughout our lives is an invitation to acknowledge not so much our relevance as catalysts, but the relationships we establish with every body (human or non-human) we encounter. Recognizing our responsibility as catalysts means accepting ourselves as changeable, in constant evaporation, and influenced by everything around us.
— César Esparragoza
Translated to English by Luis Sokol
Published on March 20 2025