OFLUXO

Upon entering the room, it is possible to observe, in one single glance, several events – of varied appearances, autonomous from one another – mostly produced directly in architecture and which, together, constitute a pending situation, suspended in time and open to significations denotations. What has happened? What’s going on? What will come? Inside the gallery, wherever the visitor points their eyes, there are signs of destruction, together with insinuations that, yes, something is about to happen. An example? The fire that licked the walls: it went out, but it remains present; not in flames, but in the burning of what was consumed to become, ever since, something else. What that is, no one knows yet.
This very trail of fire spans a horizon there. It crosses a part of the walls of the gallery horizontally and wraps the visitor in this delimitation and border, there, two mirrored elements, above and below the line. Above, a thick black spot emerges, along with winding, zigzagging graphics that are the remains of the combustion, of the spreading of the flames and the charring of the surfaces by the blaze and the smoke. Below the cut, portions of melting wax from more than a thousand burning candles drips down. The accumulating matter pours little by little, shapeless, from an aluminum shelf to the ground and, from there, it runs, so to speak, to the circulation area in puddles.
It is curious that, at the end, the configuration also emerges fractured and ambiguous: simultaneously destructive and ethereal. On the one hand, due to the burning, the vanishing, the annihilation of matters. On the other, by evoking primordial gestures, some ancestry, religious symbolism, like the rituals aimed at establishing direct communication with divinities. Or even as if these stains sketched, in their movements, a closed, continuous landscape of cypresses in the wind, maybe in flames—which would bring to mind, lo and behold, Brazil in the present and the environmental crisis.
Be that as it may, this place is hot. Including a diamond-shaped core which erupts from the ground with one of its incandescent tips. That’s right: from the floor bursts a geometric structure made of concrete (the same material the building housing the gallery is made of), with a chinked internal area and which reveals a painting, a mix of blue, red, and yellow which turns the element almost into an ore, a rare stone, maybe something recently discovered that was underground until recently, rough on the sides, and shining and translucent on the upper face.
Or in these colors, is there a representation of the northern lights? Could it be a natural phenomenon that has not been described by the sciences yet? Or maybe a radioactive substance, a process of nuclear reactions? Could it be a supernatural vision? A foundation stone? An alien sign? Or an architectural fragment? A sculpture, an installation? Or could this diamond impetuously emerging from the ground, in the middle of the rectangular room, be a reference to the Brazilian flag? Could it be part of an allegory? Of Brazil? Of today’s Brazil, of Brazilian politics, of the expectations created with the transition of governments?     
Next to it, on the wall, there is a set of translucent plastic pieces, as if they were lab research materials with stains and colored shapes, some of them with an organic appearance, maybe beings, small flying or sea creatures, maybe invisible, maybe real, maybe not anymore, that reveal themselves like apparitions. However, the phantasmagoria does not end there. Because, despite the concreteness of things and the evidence of the events, the ideas insinuated by these elements tend towards falsehood or unrealness.   
That does not mean that affirmations are always fragile and unsustainable when it comes to works. On the contrary, it is the assertiveness of the choices and decisions that will not be confused with a mere categorical emphasis—here the mood is also tentative, uncertain. So much so that the exhibition does not give in to a certainty, nor can it be explained by a sentence. If there is no answer to the questions prior to this text, it is because there is not one, or there is not only one. The questions are rhetorical, but formulated to follow, closely, the triggering of imaginations, of multiple suggestions, and of critical analyses (about the world, about the art filed, about yesterday, today, tomorrow) that Nuclear makes and gives rise to, all the time—through uncommon, unwavering processes, but about which the artist exerts no absolute control, where chance lives. Furthermore, from where such interrogations are read, can you feel the heat in the room?