There is a gaze that pierces the visible, that deconstructs, that senses each image —like each fragment of land hides layers. Layers of time, memory, and living matter.

In this exhibition, the works of María Bayá, Marisa Gill, and Gaby Grobo fold and unfold in a choreography of strata. Their practices, diverse in technique yet united in sensitivity, trace an intimate map of what is present, though not always seen.

Three women attuned to the essence behind simplicity, the earthly, the universe that surrounds us.

María Bayá embroiders on photographic paper as one might reopen a wound to understand it. Her interventions pierce the original image, cross it, rewrite it. The threads evoke those invisible bonds that tie us to other living beings —part of our vital energy— which we often neglect, dazzled by seemingly new ways of connecting.

Marisa Gill lets the air draw. Her lithographs and mixed techniques capture movement as suspended vibration. Quick, fleeting, almost sonorous lines traverse sheets that hover without touching the ground, as if caught in the centrifugal wind of an ordinary autumn.

Gaby Grobo, in contrast, plunges her hands into the depths and initiates, through her work, a journey that begins at the root and rises into the smoke of fantastical skies. Her compositions study the earth as though they were microscopic slices of an invisible territory. Intimate topographies, miniature landscapes, where the organic becomes abstract and the material brushes the mystical.

Each artist, with her lens, invites us to connect through the visual with other sensory realms: the smell of soil, of rain, the lightness of the wind, the rustle of leaves, and the dryness of stone. As if we had chosen to cut the earth in cross-section, the works reveal what usually remains hidden. These are layers that touch, blend, and overlap to form a visible whole. There is an archaeological impulse in their gestures: to peel back, layer by layer, until the voice of the image behind the image emerges. Between what is seen and what is intuited, a contemplative space opens where sensitivity gains weight. There, where the image is silent, matter whispers to us, and the body, for an instant, remembers that it too is earth. That it too vibrates, erodes, breathes, and returns —again and again— to the landscape that stirs it.

(Text by Tamara Selvood, june 2025)