With “Life in the folds” Carlos Amorales brings to the Mexican Pavilion at the Venice Biennale the condensation of a career-long interest in the ambiguity of abstraction and figuration, taking form in a sprawling metamorphosis of shapes becoming signs, signs turning into sounds, sounds echoing into myths.

Oh blessed crevice tearing us apart, untainted by meaning, devourer of doubts and sounds. Gather all the whispers in the world, the fallen numbers, and you might begin to glimpse her ancient birth. Nursed in every particle’s breast, a chorus of disintegration improvises on scripted oblivion. So too do we all fall, and in those instants where we hang from emptiness our limbs gesture a forbidden alphabet. Momentum grows but so does understanding, our fracturing body developing a new language, seeking to teach us how to fly. But is all too late. The ground welcomes our inert bodies, lost letters muffled with dirt.



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