La obra es una zona con­stru­i­da, con el objec­ti­vo inverosímil de ser un espa­cio de inter­ac­ción social, un cam­po fes­ti­vo, com­puesto de once mesas hechas de tro­zos de madera reci­cla­dos de obras pasadas, trape­zoidales y yux­ta­pues­tas en ángu­los tor­pes, for­man­do un gran polí­gono de geome­tria extraña con una super­fi­cie con­tin­ua, des­made­ja­da, cobier­ta de per­fora­ciones tri­an­gu­lares para alo­jar cuer­pos. Además, todo el con­torno de la obra es cubier­to por una red. Estás den­tro o fuera. Los par­tic­i­pantes gatean e emer­gen en el enca­je rígi­do que rodea sus cuer­pos blan­d­os, apun­ta­l­a­dos por la madera que los envuelve, y per­manecen atra­pa­dos en sus agu­jeros, con las pier­nas sub­mergi­das, retor­cien­dose de la cin­tu­ra para arri­ba, los bra­zos exten­di­dos, libres para lev­an­tar sus copas y salu­dar a los ami­gos, todos con­tentos anhelando cer­canía y feliz­mente con­streñi­dos, unidos rehénes de un solo objeto. 



Jan­u­ary 2016. San­ti­a­go, Chile.
We dis­as­sem­bled the La Ley tables so that the sur­faces could be per­fo­rat­ed. We cut sev­er­al tri­an­gles out of each table­top then reat­tached the legs. The table­tops already had odd­ly angled con­tours, so that plac­ing them flush against each oth­er already pro­duced neg­a­tive tri­an­gu­lar spaces. By push­ing all the tables togeth­er, with atten­tion to opti­mum angle com­bi­na­tion, we made a con­tin­u­ous mega-table pierced with tri­an­gu­lar ori­fices big enough for a body to pass. We put up a net around the perime­ter to delim­it and iso­late the table (com­pos­ing with the jum­bled ele­ments of a table/net game). Our guests will arrive and the par­ty will take place inside the table inside the net. There will be whisky and cham­pagne, wine and kilos of red cher­ries and pis­ta­chio nuts by the hand­ful, but only with­in the lim­its of the net. Noth­ing can be passed through, over it or under it. There are at least forty tri­an­gu­lar holes, of dif­fer­ent sizes and pro­por­tions, for the guests to fill. The guests will have to get on their hands and knees to crawl under the table between the wood­en and human legs to find a hole through which to sur­face. Once they emerge into the par­ty they will be sur­round­ed; they will be wel­comed, affec­tion­ate­ly greet­ed, served wine, engaged in con­ver­sa­tion by their close neigh­bors, but they will be wedged in place. They will see a friend in a tri­an­gle far across the table and they will wave; they may even ges­ture to move clos­er but the ply­wood edges of the tri­an­gle against their hips will remind them of the futil­i­ty of the attempt. On occa­sion an emp­ty tri­an­gle near a marooned friend will war­rant the effort of relo­cat­ing: slith­er­ing down and crawl­ing across the floor and hunt­ing for the cor­rect spot beside famil­iar legs to avoid bob­bing need­less­ly. There will be some who will not accept the con­di­tions; they would pre­fer to go with­out com­pa­ny, food or drink than get on their hands and knees. But for most the reward will be worth the effort. As pre­dict­ed, through­out the course of the evening the table filled with peo­ple, with joy; tri­an­gles were occu­pied and unoc­cu­pied and occu­pied again, holes dou­ble-stuffed, rumps lift­ed onto the sur­face with legs half-dan­gling; bot­tles were emp­tied, cher­ry pits scat­tered. The sum­mer night fell slow­ly and at last the table was vacated.