The artist captures the beauty and poetry of a sleeping sea, a sea we would never wish to awaken again.
This play is a reflection on the (im)possibility of accepting diversity and the other. The fragmented body of the neoplasm—the fruit of unstable conditions—overcomes barriers, loves and denies itself and others, wanders around, forgetting its profession. It frequently and with pleasure divides, goes through dangerous palpation, questions the possibility of contact with the experience of the other. Poorly brought up but very successful, it invites us to a trans-species transition.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce at elit quis felis ullamcorper vehicula non in est. Maecenas finibus pharetra justo et faucibus. Nulla eu tortor vel ex volutpat efficitur. Vivamus placerat turpis in aliquet venenatis. Quisque ac lacinia mauris. Nam quis lobortis elit. Vestibulum sagittis nisi sit amet euismod hendrerit. Mauris non sodales odio. Donec efficitur molestie quam, sed lobortis massa vestibulum ut.
Nunc at arcu sodales nisi porta euismod non vel neque. Phasellus at lobortis ante, in suscipit justo. Proin non purus vitae nisi molestie consectetur. Vestibulum volutpat lobortis interdum. Vestibulum pretium ligula lorem, egestas ultricies lectus ultricies ac. Curabitur venenatis vulputate dolor.
Erik Garcia Gómez is an indefatigable inventor. When everything seems lost, Erik appears as a "dream fixer," offering solutions as if problems were not part of daily life. He makes us believe that everything can go back to being normal.
The sequence of images in Landscape is part of the horizon of his native Cojímar. This coastal zone of Havana is an emblematic symbol for the "disappeared." It is a boarding point from which many people left Cuba, a point of departure and indefinite return, transfer-point for lives and deaths. It is a solemn monument to troubled rafters blinded by fury and hope.
Landscape is a work that seals a pact and settles scores with the past. Our gaze is lost on the horizon and we submerge ourselves in a painful retrospection, traveling to a past that always forms part of the present, a past that survives in the heart of every Cuban family. Our thinking bears witness and binds together different memories.
Erik proposes the hopeful Landscape of his daily surroundings as if everything had returned to normalcy. Erik heals our wounds and gives us a peaceful sea, the same one that once was witness to so many fears, so many estrangements, rushed departures, and deaths. Erik captures the beauty and poetry of a sleeping sea, a sea we would never wish to awaken again. - Magda Ileana González-Mora, Curator
