Contemplating

with fascination

my own absence.

Going home just dreaming

finding that it is only a memory

The furniture is gone, is out there

Is fragmented and is moving

Is time that doesn't have an end

Is a place in no where

The landscape has been burned

in an instance

I've made a drawing on the carpet

I put my north on

I wrote it on a highway.

I made it with

the brush of the vacuum

I was an alien getting an outline

I wanted the map of a house

house is a country itself

I left my steps there

traced on the surface.

Then, I took theirs

Again I wrote on the carpet

Family Maps es una serie de mesas individuales en aluminio armando paisajes domesticos. La superficie plana esta cubierta de fibras de algodón, papel y pelos que quedan en la secadora después de lavar la ropa, ancladas están unas sillas de casa de muñecas trabajadas con brea y fibra. Hacen grupos que invitan a la cena familiar, para dos, para cuatro, para seis, para ocho, para la visita, pero las sillas no se mueven, están ahí y ahí nadie cave, nadie pasa. Todo esta agotado, cansado de las lavadas, la limpieza deja residuos, residuos de colores de algodón que forman geografías, paisaje llano, desértico, pulcro.