2017
In her series of prints To be there, Inés Verdugo’s body is contorted within the blueprint of a house. She pushes against walls, hunches down with the ceiling pressing down on her neck. The feeling of claustrophobia is matched by the contained energy in her body, the push back against the space that closes in around her. In her devastating text, “Fridays” , Verdugo recalls another domestic space: that of her friend and fellow artist, Raúl Torres . For two years, Torre´s home served as an informal site for a small group of artist to gather and share work. It was informal school and community and home until it wasn’t any more. Verdugo cuts apart her childhood dollhouse, piling the small pieces into columns , after giving up on rebuilding it from its pieces.