The exhibition combines one audiovisual piece, Gallinazo, with five bronze sculptures, using the figure of the black vulture — Coragyps atratus — to explore memory, identity, classification, exclusion, and the violence of naming.

Cathartes unfolds around a private club, childhood memories, social belonging, exclusion, and the silent presence of a gallinazo watching from above.

The video moves between different moments in the narrator’s life: childhood, the return after ten years in Europe, family life, and an 18th-century episode in which a European naturalist arrives sick on the Peruvian coast. These layers of time overlap, connected by the vulture’s gaze.

You’re watching:

• A private club as a symbolic machine of continuity and belonging
• A vulture that becomes a figure of the limit: inside/outside, life/death, wild/civilized
• The violence of classification: how naming something can reduce, fix, and stigmatize it
• Five bronze vultures, distorted and elevated, as if watching us from a distance
• A gallery space covered in blue raffia, turning the white cube into an artificial skin

The exhibition feels strange, layered, and quietly disturbing — like a memory that refuses to stay clean.

If you like contemporary art that works through symbols, narrative, and discomfort.

Because Cathartes is not really “about” a vulture.

It is about what societies refuse to see — death, decay, exclusion, wildness, impurity — and how language can create the illusion that those things do not exist.

Watch the video as a layered memory, not a linear story

Pay attention to who is looking: the narrator, the bird, the naturalist, you

Move around the bronze sculptures slowly — their forms resist immediate recognition

Notice the blue raffia: the space itself becomes part of the fiction

Let the discomfort stay with you; this exhibition is built around what cannot be easily absorbed or named