Estela Sàez vilanova: Good by(e) nest

Synaesthesia in Estela’s nest

Synaesthesia / noun a subjective sensation or image of a sense other than the one being stimulated, e.g. an impression of colour produced by a sound.
The colours of a cherished, familiar landscape, somewhere in the foothills of the Pyrenees leading to the Mediterranean Sea. A blue air one could bite; a yellow light one could touch. Blue and yellow: primary colours, homesick colours.
The velvety touch of a slightly moist wooden spoon; the smell of a small leather pouch soaked by rancid wine; metal tools sprinkled with earth after working in the fields... Unusual sensations inspire new radical objects looking at the rural utensils of yesteryear.
Silver that looks like leather, leather that looks like skin, the skin of a nest, the nest of oneself. A metaphor for fragility and the need of a shelter.
From darning and stitching, seams and patches arise on the objects’ surface. Metal is treated like a soft material. When Granny’s skills are adopted by the goldsmith, senses are pleased and confused.
Bala de palla, stack of straw, navel of the world. Not in Delphos nor in Cusco, neither at the bottom of a Siberian mine; the navel of the world lays bare on the countryside of Lladó.
Anchor or ballast, burden or polestar for the conceptual peasant. Do roots give wings?
Black, like traditional Catalan folk ceramics. And groc, yellow. A yellow buzz, a yellow taste. A little device to throw smoke into the beehive and, in doing so, picking up the honey. Cruel method, sweet result.
Burst ball, end of the game, childhood memories.
A ripe fruit, big as a fist. Seeds have left... to grow up somewhere else. Far away. Anew.

Mònica Gaspar 

edition 1000 ex