The Sun´s Desire to Touch (I)
2021, Tijuana
The Sun’s Desire to Touch (I), unfolds as a relation—between bodies, between materials, between forces that seek contact. The sun is approached as matter: something that presses, seeps, insists. The work lingers in the moment before contact becomes form, where sensation precedes meaning. What emerges is a field of proximity, where matter moves toward matter in order to register its own existence.
Directed by : Eréndira Violeta González, Camara: Yadira Gutierrez, Video Editing: Migdael Machuca and Eréndira Violeta González
The Sun
Sun not as a vision, nor a God, not an illuminated unconsciousness but rather as matter. Matter that posses viscosity depending on its temperature, its humidity, matter with its mass, density, pouring and dripping gravity, is not circular and clear, it does not posses a precise form on the contrary is sticky
The Sun is only matter with the desire to touch another matter in order to feel it exists.
The Honey
Bees gather sun, with the imputes of their whole body. Its proboscis (tongue) extracts the sun from the flower, carrying it in their proventriculus (stomach), then is passed mouth to mouth, stored and sealed with a liquid secretion from their abdomen. Each drop of sun is delicate and precious and needs the care: the increase of their body heat or the fluttering of their wings create the favorable air for the Sun to exudes the intensity of its sweetness.
Honey is made with organs that is why is visceral, its pungent aromatic fragrance and the fostering of sweet delight, is not meant for contemplation, it appeals at our tongue, for our consumption, it demands that we partake in it.
Honey is the Sun’s desires to touch…
The Hills
Once upon a time they belonged to the ocean, now they face the sun and the wind. Marine sediment, sandstones, conglomerate make up their body, Endemic resilient vegetation hangs on to its thin porous rocky soil and flowers. Now they are displaced in the middle of the urban grid, arbitrarily sliced to make space for highway, arbitrarily divided by geography. They have no horizon, just the vertical rhythm of the torn open soil and chiaroscuro of hollow lines and scorching sun.
They are the sensation of the enormous waves about to fall, that I have had since childhood… that has not gone away.
2026@ErendiraVioleta