CLEPSIDRA
Carolina Fusilier
11.21 – 03.22
About:
I watched the images of a new body of work develop throughout this past portion of the pandemic (Spring/Summer 2021) when we were settled in our little isolation bubble by the sea. We lived by 2 types of time, one connected to the ocean rhythms, and the other to our globally synced devices, which kept us at work, though internet and electricity would often fail.
CLEPSIDRA is an nocturnal water clock used after the sun sets when sundials become ineffective. The scenes from Carolina’s paintings take place in magic hour or before sunrise, after insomnia prevails and light gradients begin to bleed through the other side. When the banality of interiors begin to perform a light show in the living room and faint traces meet sensitive eyes not yet accustomed for color so they appear unnatural, of another planet.
Through windows and doorways, reflected off glass orbs, the constant presence of the ocean is in the background, as present as our devices in the foreground, touch screens that keep us in with machine-predictable gestures of anxious human hands. Correspondences sent towards abstracted cities that feel so distant from this island.C waits for the arrival of a response. The seconds hand fluid or ticking?
Miko Revereza, November 2021
“It’s like ignoring the fire in the kitchen because we’re in the dining room, Lauren explains to her father in an apocalyptic novel by Octavia Butler. I’m falling asleep, closing the book and putting my phone on airplane mode. My pedagogical devices accompany the routine ubiquitously. They float with their imminent red and blue microlights. There are no calendars here, just the occasional illegal and poorly made clepsydra.”
Text taken from the correspondences the artist wrote to different friends during the process of Clepsidra. The answers were printed in the form of a poster that is offered to the public and accompanies the exhibition. Includes texts by Ana Gallardo, Catalina León, Eduardo Navarro, Laura Petrecca and Lucia Hinojosa.
Carolina Fusilier (Buenos Aires, 1985) lives and works between Mexico and Argentina. Through her multidiscipli nary approach she explores human-landscape connections within intuitive narratives of the future.