Un collar con forma de estrella
Felipe Álvarez Parisi
06.03.20 | 07.04.20

In his show at Mite, Felipe Álvarez Parisi (Buenos Aires, 1992) presented a set of paintings and a single object, a floor-to-ceiling column in the middle of the gallery, a structure of eggs placed one on top of the other. Traced in pencil on the largest wall in gallery, the one where most of the paintings were laid out unevenly, was a pattern like a wall of hollow bricks; the blue rug covering the floor chromatically connected the interior with views from the gallery’s window, specifically to the also-blue façade of a store—a houseware shop—across the street. Both the store and the works are tied, in different ways, to the domestic sphere.

In the mostly small-format works on exhibit, the familiar is altered or rarefied by an element that has been displaced. In Mi ansiedad (My Anxiety, 2019), a fire burning up the edge of a curtain in the corner of a neat room threatens to envelop the rest of the house. In Café de nana (Nana’s Coffee, 2019), water is what threatens to overflow as its light-blue streams pour through holes in a red brick wall, the color of the water and of the brick in stark contrast. Liquid also streams in egg white-tears from the ten eggs on the green rungs of the ladder in Huevito llorón sobre escalera (Little Crying Egg on Ladder, 2019). The image of the egg reappears, distorting a still life with its double yoke, in Huevo de dos yemas (Two-Yoked Egg, 2019), as does water in Tus vasos viendo como entras otro al cuarto (Your Glasses Watching as You, Someone Else, Walk into the Room, 2019), where vessels holding liquid come to life and seem to run amok as they take over a room.

In the text written for the show, Ramiro Birriel and Nicolás Moguilevsky speak of “consecutive accidents as tragedies still unfolding” that combine with the “joys of morning and flirtation with an imaginary unsettled by those fevers that never abate.” In these works, stillness is seen from a naive perspective of curved and organic lines.