Fortuitous or not, a nursery and an art gallery intertwine today in a braid whose political coordinates seem to defy mere chance.

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Imagine falling, but there’s no ground.

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Chavis Mármol grew up with the two pearls of this story in his paternal grandmother’s house. The sculpture is a tribute to them. He exhibited the piece at Zsona Maco, at the JO-HS gallery. Chavis was looking for an intimate and raw introduction. I wrote this text based on what he told me: childhood memories, admiration for their twin uncles… We printed it on shiny pink paper, like the pearls—like the uncles—and we read it at the fair in front of the sculpture, which is also an offering.

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The line for the elevator is long, but I insist we wait: something about its olive green intrigues me. The number indicating the floor we’re on lights up seven times before revealing the gallery’s interior.

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