Installation - Second skin

Latex, black thread (2025)

Installation - Second skin

Latex, black thread (2025)

Installation - Second skin

Latex, black thread (2025)

Three chairs and a table, stripped of their skins. The latex pulled from each surface holds the exact shape of what it covered, the grain, the curve, the memory of hands and weight and time. Suspended, emptied, they hang like something that has already happened.

Domestic objects accumulate the life of whoever lived with them, slowly, without announcement, through years of use. Latex comes from trees that weep: cut, bled, extracted. That the skin of these objects is made from the same material is not incidental. What covers us, what we sit on, what we return to every day, it was always made from something that was taken.

The skins are sutured by hand with black thread. The stitch doesn’t restore. It names the wound, traces its edge, makes the damage something you can follow with your finger. What remains in the room is the furniture, hollowed. What hangs is everything it held.

The work begins with Colombia, with extractivism as the continuation of colonialism, with a period of violence so sustained it stopped feeling like an event and became a condition. That violence does not stay in the territory. It
moves indoors. It settles into the objects we live with, the surfaces we touch, the rooms we think of as safe. The home was never separate from what happened outside it.