Adela Angulo Portugal

"Dejar que pese" is a gap that brings us closer to an intimate temporality, relegated and sustained between different bodies that show their fissures and, through them, reach to be seen. "Seeing blurred" and "The sky" stopped being blue together with "Let it weigh", the piece that gives its name to the exhibition, investigate the weight and tension that the sustained body harbours. To cover not only means to cover, but to cloud an eye so that it can no longer see clearly.

The transfer of intimate time to the work is revealed as an undoing. The body rests, makes room for the weight, retains, the fissure appears, the overflow, the possibility. The work, sometimes undone, rests; in its rest it takes on a new form, its capacity for being expands. "I am unexpectedly fragmentary. I am little by little. My story is to live", wrote Clarice Lispector. Each piece shows itself as it is: a sensitive body in continuous recomposition. A body that allows itself to be traversed. The canvas unfolds as a possibility; Adela leads us through gaps, fractures and folds to the tension that retains a body at rest.

In its rotundity everything seems light. "To unpick a painting is to turn the page", says Adela. I read her notes to approach the dialogue between the works. I converse with her work process. "To unravel is a prolonged stay that is far from deterioration," I think as I read her. "To paint it is necessary to continue painting", she writes. The weight converges in two vanishing points: the trace and the support; the trace is a quality of time through which the willing body advances. "To paint it is necessary to continue painting", I remember. The body is, in turn, support. The body is trace and support and the weight converges on it. This becomes visible in the space we walk through. I think of a dirt road. Crossing it is a repeated incision. I think of the text. It is also seeing through.

The weight dilutes and contracts, the line expands and concentrates... As a change of state happens, the surroundings seem to disappear as a huge mass takes position. "Let it weigh" is a reflection of this. A small red handle holds an accumulation of days, traces that appear in front of us contained between four small corners, signs that, like the folding of a page, make us notice what we have read. They show us the possibility of a return, a claim. Once again, the work offers us its fissures. We see how the incision makes the opening possible: from there everything appears unnamable. Sometimes words tremble.

Text: Emejota Villanueva