Kati Riquelme


and the silence reveals the secret we did not want to hear. J.Teillier

Black thush dialogues with memory, absence, silence and time. Passing through the leafy darkness, we begin a journey into the soul, a half-perceived place. Sometimes we are lulled by the landscape around us but often it is disquieting, a dark, impenetrable, rough and dangerous presence. However, the undergrowth rings with reminiscences of a bird evocative of eclipses, pillars of the elusive, perpetuating the ancient knowledge that there is no greater security than relying on the great dance of life and showing ourselves just how finite and fragile we are. Abysses of birth and death, sublime beauty and pain, allowing ourselves to be borne along by something we do not know, travelling in the intuition of feeling time from a contemplative place and not as a calculating act.

To Pep Mayugo and the echo of his steps.