I met Isalda in Paris one cloudy day. I walked past her, unable to take my eyes off her handbag. “It’s…it’s a sculpture!” I said, and I remember her laughing with that solemnity that only us Castilians understand. She let me examine it, caress it, smell it, and caress it again. “You made this yourself, then?” I exclaimed with equal parts admiration and curiosity. “Yes, I did! It’s called Akira” she replied. “Well, Akira should be in a museum…” Delicately, Isabel began laughing again.
After that encounter, there were others, and one day I realized that there was one word that always emerged in our conversations: museum. The fact is that we are both museumists, art lovers, museum ladies. And since I had this curiosity about intervention in public spaces and the synergy between creators, I suggested to Isa the idea of taking Akira out for a walk.
Rodin meets Akira
A museum, a handbag, and my body in service to the dialogue between them.
I take a breath and walk in circles. I let my body go where Akira leads me. Rodin. I expected nothing less from something Parisian. Hello, Rodin. We greet each other cordially. We continue circling him. We surround him. We embrace him. The circles get smaller and smaller until he is inside of us, and now, inside of Akira. Akira wants to dance. We dance. The three of us dance. They look at us. The visitors are looking at us. Security… Bu they say nothing. Perhaps they realize that it’s not polite to interrupt a dialogue. Dialogue. That is what we are, for a moment. Leather. Museum. Stone. Dialogue.
Photo by Tasha Han
Art by Jimena Merino
Styled by Marlota