The Space that Separates Us, 2021
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Public spaces were closed to the public.
When they opened, a perimeter was established where walking was allowed.
No fences were put up, but we all imagined them.
We also imagined that the imaginary lines of those fences would one day become soft, circular, irregular.
It was a time of pandemic.
Buildings under construction were paralyzed.
Piles of materials were behind fenced-in spaces.
I once saw a wall of fences that had fallen, fence by fence. They looked like dominoes.
Most of the stores closed.
Some were caught in the closure while undergoing renovation.
For a long time, “Opening soon” signs could be seen in these store windows.
Despite the barrage of information I receive daily about events in this city, street posters are still used.
They are usually placed on walls, but especially on fences.
On top of one poster, the next is placed, and then the next, and so on, until a conglomeration of posters forms.
When someone takes them down, you can see the remains of the poster stuck to the billboard with tape.
Some are blown away by the wind.
It seems like the fence is still celebrating the event it had been advertising.
