Memory is a constant companion to our essence and identity, both in subjective terms and within social and political spheres. We are who we are because of the transformations we undergo, the stories we live (or create), and the experiences and knowledge we acquire. From mere identification to the argument of authority, memories are foundational to the very fabric of the world we inhabit. It is intriguing that something so fundamental and constitutive often exists solely through narratives. Memory lacks materiality or tangibility. Even when constructed in the present, it belongs to and refers to the past. This renders it fragile: as time passes and we age, memories alter, evolve, or fade, becoming increasingly vaporous and diffuse. Thus, we speak less of a cornerstone and more of a trace, one so delicate that it can easily dissipate.
 

This exhibition brings together the work of four artists with diverse languages and trajectories, all of whom incorporate this vestigial, fleeting, and metamorphic materiality into their art. Their works remain imbued with meaning, yet they are eroded and elusive, resisting clear identification.
 

One such artist is Nathalie Ventura, whose poetic compass is attuned to nature and our assimilation of it. In her installation Memorial for All the Mountains That Were Lost, slabs of Carrara marble and underfloor material emerge from the ground. Solid yet worn and brittle, they appear to evoke mountains, ranges, and geological formations. This evocation arises from their silhouette and positioning—a vestige, a recollection. The landscape itself no longer exists; we see only debris and fragments of what was perhaps once grand and imposing.
 

The Forest Gives Life to Unknown Beings Every Time We Burn Its Roots takes on a less tectonic, more organic form. It incorporates materials like charcoal and wood and is punctuated by long, mysterious spines that hint at enigmatic encounters—perhaps a kiss? A defense mechanism? A tactile organ? We cannot know for certain. Yet there is an undeniable sense of vitality, or perhaps of something that once lived. The material has transformed. Nature operates in cycles of material transformation, and we, imbued with memories and affections, are no different. By leaving our marks, we infuse these processes with mystery, narratives, and memory. Ventura freezes this physical-chemical transformation while injecting it with something affective, albeit barely perceptible.
 

Marina Schroeder adopts a more historical approach, not in a polemical sense but to understand transformations through a cultural and collective lens. In her Revelados series—oil paintings on vellum paper layered with cement and fragments of roses—we glimpse the remnants of ancient, worn-out images. The overall atmosphere is leaden, dense, and shadowy. The motifs emerge from thick, dark lines, as though asserting themselves amid a completely ruined environment. One gets the impression of gazing upon utter devastation, akin to a bombed-out city. Yet the bold contours of the depicted figures suggest resilience.

In Revelado I, a group of people appears to peer through a wall, some gesturing to the other side. The scene is desolate, yet a faint connection persists. In Revelado II, horizontal bands resembling shelves hold an array of silhouettes—perhaps flower vases—lined up closely, forming a collective strength. Schroeder works with wreckage and fragments but salvages a primal energy capable of enduring profound collapse.
 

Mariana Tassinari injects vitality into seemingly empty and abstract forms. In her recent series of embroidered works, small, colorful silhouettes emerge against equally vibrant backgrounds. Though painterly in inclination, Tassinari emphasizes the textures of her materials: the threads and weaves of the backgrounds and the soft forms of the foreground. These abstract motifs sometimes seem on the verge of becoming recognizable objects. In their solitude, they suggest potential transformation; when grouped, they seek connection, striving to form a cohesive whole. Their vibrant dynamism, highlighted by angular linearity and distinct materiality, lends them an almost living quality.
 

Lastly, Mirela Cabral ventures beyond her principal medium of painting into embroidery, a technique she occasionally revisits. In her paintings, lines and forms emerge but quickly dissolve into their material substance. In her embroidered works, however, delicate lines form mysterious shapes and spaces. Unlike paint, fabric is not liquid, and the thread introduces an agitated linearity, resembling sparks of color slicing through a silent, monochromatic surface. Here, the tangible support contrasts with the ethereal quality of her designs. These vestigial elements—like shooting stars across a dark sky—offer fleeting glimpses of presence. While her paintings layer materials, her embroidery distills the essential forces shaping the cosmos, seeking not definitive answers but fleeting insights.
 

Spanning the raw materials of nature, cultural imprints, projective impulses, and spiritual flashes, these artists explore what composes us. Perhaps less solid than we assume, these elements nevertheless consolidate potent narratives even amidst their ephemeral nature.
 

Theo Monteiro | November 2024