The body of the sculpture, in CarrerasMugica

Coffee with milk, pineapple, egg with tomato, onion and coriander It could be a breakfast menu, that morning meal that is said to provide enough energy for daily activities. This food and others made at home are also one of the recurring themes of the artist Jorge Satorre (Mexico City, 1979), who now lives in Bilbao, when he talks to his mother.

He says that in their telephone conversations they tell each other what they cooked and what they ate, whether it was good for them or whether it was too heavy. And that these conversations that seem unimportant, that may be inconsequential, are at the origin of a work that should have been done for the exhibition that he would now curate at the CarrerasMugica gallery.

Yet it is absent, it cannot be seen there, it is not made, or perhaps it is, in another way. It may be that what he needed to solve by producing a new piece was met during the process of organizing this exhibition.

[David Bestué, form in decomposition]

It generated another conversation, this time between the works of three artists from two different generations –if this idea of ​​generation makes sense because they are still contemporaries–, who developed a path in which reflection on sculpture is central: David Bestué (Barcelona, ​​​​​​1979), Susana Solano (​​Barcelona, ​​​​​1946 ) and Julia Spínola (Madrid, 1979).

It is a dialogue in which the gallery space seems to transform into a body, the same body that digests the food that Satorre talks about with his mother; a body that turns inside out, exposing its organsthose who shape it from within.

The skin has holes, like some of Julia Spínola's silkscreens on the wall, which are sometimes holes, sometimes wounds. They can also be tattoos that resemble flowers. And there are freckles, some are like green drops that slide upwards, breaking the law of gravity, even though they have already dried.

There is also a scar that is still healing and still has the stitches: it is the lead and rubber relief Reflection (2010-11), by Susana Solano, in one of the corners of the ceiling.

Like a reflection in a mirror, perhaps that of Narcissus, it is David Bestué's two mouths that close one of the doors to the space, a deep kiss in which the tongue is the bolt; a question in which the full and the empty, the concave and the convex, what joins and what separates, are so important that it has become a kind of trope of sculpture in the avant-garde, in Brancusi's block or in Julio González's montage.

The mouths come close to one sex, or two, male and female, because in this brutal sculpture that has something of a Solano fountain, sex scenario (1986), is not fully known, it depends a lot on where you look from.

Space is a body, but its organs, which are sculptures, contain other bodies: that of the spectator who may be trapped in Solano's cell, No (1988), or walk several times on the catwalk, also hers, Meditations #10 (1993); in the pieces constructed with Spínola paper, which contain that of the artist who squeezes and compresses, tightens and acts, or, literally, in the materials that Bestué uses in some of his works, the bone and blood powders of the first with the one who opens or closes the exposure.

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