Voluspa Jarpa

Dear friends,

I write to you thinking that with you I can share a feeling of mourning and collective consciousness. From the current situation of social isolation imposed by the pandemic - and within the framework of free, in the open air (al aire, libre) - I ask you to light a candle that I will send you via courier in the coming days. On it, a buckshot will be embedded in the upper part, which will detach from it when the candle melts, causing the buckshot to fall. I ask you to record a small video with that moment of fall and its sound, and then send me this recording. With your recordings I will set up a single video.

The candle you will receive contains word fragments of a phrase I've extracted from Saramago's Blindness:

I think we are blind, blind but seeing, blind people who can see, but do not see.

Your action will allow us to imagine and recall the violence experienced by our society, when forced to witness the damage that the State has inflicted on more than 400 people who were shot in the eyes, during the 2019-2020 social outbreak. An irrational and shocking violence that bring us back to an abyss from which we thought we had gone out.

Candlelight as sentence, as memory. Light as waiting for justice.

I ask you to record the moment of the buckshot drop, thinking that the heat of that differentiated sound will fill the whole environment with the audible. Sound that embodies a moment, sound that will connect us briefly with those affected, sound that will affect us.

A pause to honor the sacredness of being connected.