“Tristeza Carmesi” (Crimson Sadness) is an exploration of personal search, rootedness, and in particular, of my own experience about human relations marked by the recent political upheavals affecting many countries in Latin America. Featured in my solo exhibition “Futuros Bifurcantes,” the performance treats the rupture of affective relations, the breaking of democratic stability, the undermining of people’s choices, and the ideological division of families, friends, and loved ones.

A rustic mattress made of straw, white coarse cotton cloth, framed aluminum mirrors, old hunting dagger, and goat’s blood define the performance. It’s the opening day of the exhibition, an immersive multimedia experience with the sound of poetic narratives, video projections, textual banners, and installation. In an adjacent room, waiting for the audience to enter, I lie down on a straw mattress. Though I’m covered with a thick cotton cloth, I’m cold—it’s winter in the Southern Hemisphere. To hold my posture for almost an hour has been a real challenge. If I move, I could disrupt the setting. I hear many voices entering the room, and chairs moving. The lights are turned off, the room becomes silent, and a Spanish melody begins to play. I feel the strong spotlight from above falling on me—it’s the signal to activate. Slowly, I start to press the small silicon container against my chest making the goat’s blood spill on the sheets. I move as if I were waking up from a dream holding my chest and the white sheets that begin to turn red. It’s a dance, but I’m not standing. My horizontal position makes my breathing difficult as I try not to reveal the silicon bag and yet manage to spill the goat’s blood on me. At one point, I reach for the dagger, turn my body around to a kneeling position, and with a strong blow, I make a cut on the mattress. Its stripped tarp cover rips open so I continue to cut it until I can put my right hand inside. I can feel the compacted straw inside the mattress. I begin to pull it. The task is not as easy as I had thought. With all my strength I continue to pull more pieces of the coarse grass as if I were disemboweling the entrails of a large beast. I repeat this task until I become exhausted bringing the long-sharp straw to my chest. End.