Individual Displacement 4 2017

Curator: Beatriz González created this work, "Individual Displacement 4," in 2017, using charcoal and pastel on paper. It's an intriguing drawing, isn't it? Editor: It is. It gives me a feeling of muted melancholy, almost like a fading memory. The colors are subdued, and the form feels incomplete, unresolved somehow. What's your read? Curator: Well, knowing González's background, especially her engagement with representing violence and displacement in Colombia, shifts my perspective. The ghostly figure suggests loss, the ephemerality of life, and perhaps even the lingering presence of trauma. The indistinct quality speaks to the difficulties in truly grasping the scale of these tragedies. Editor: Absolutely, that context is key. Her consistent use of these hazy forms – here we see something of a body being carried, but the vagueness adds to the overall emotional impact, forcing the viewer to fill in the blanks, implicating them in the narrative. It resists easy answers, I think, which is a powerful way to engage with difficult topics. Curator: I see that too. The choice of materials adds to that feeling; pastel and charcoal are fragile mediums; the drawing itself almost feels as if it could disintegrate. But there's a stark beauty in its imperfection. It reminds me that even in moments of devastation, there’s space for artistry, for reflection. Editor: I think this is what moves me most, the vulnerability that seeps out from the medium itself, but also in what seems a reference to those displaced or disappeared... It asks: How do you even begin to represent what's been erased? How do you make present an absence? Curator: Precisely! It becomes an act of bearing witness, doesn't it? And demanding remembrance. Editor: It does. And it does so with an uncommon sensitivity. I think that I initially viewed the work as one capturing stillness or inaction. But, with a little reflection, and considering Gonzalez's influences, I find there's quiet resistance inherent to it as well. A holding on, and remembering, if you will. Curator: I completely agree. It's a somber and evocative artwork. And it stays with you long after you've walked away.