Clemencia Echeverri’s off-center image emerges from isolated zones in Colombia, from those fissures, from those silences, to reflect on what goes unseen notwithstanding an excess of visibility, to meditate on the steep and profound forces of memory’s layers, on the fraught present, on the impossibility of repose in anxiety-ridden times. It is the reverse of glittery mediatic fanfares, the counter-narrative of the documentary and the newscast, as it assumes a perspective that shuns light, distinctness, immediacy, and plunges – iconoclastic – into the blind labyrinths of the unseen and the unnamed. It is there that a dense space solidified by time gets unfurled. The territory has been broken physically and mentally. How is a new map to be drawn?
In one of Echeverri’s works, a house taken – as in Cortázar’s tale – emerges with its atavistic symbolism in full display: Doors opening and closing, corridors leading who knows where, inscrutable nooks and corners. Then, finally, an invasion of ghostly, overflowing presences. The ancestral house, the sheltering one, the dwelling and the refuge – the one that Bachelard conjured up – is now ridden with porosities that cannot curb the exterior pressure."
Sol Astrid Giraldo