Laura Mesa picks up this baton, but she also uses the exercise of drawing as expertise and skill to question its own definition and consideration. Each of her pieces, therefore, acquires an important conceptual charge by redefining its artistic position, turning drawing into a manual and even artisan process. Her meticulous brittle work draws on series and repetition, but she does not rely on mechanical processes that seek to feint the artist’s hand; on the contrary, repeating the same gesture makes the key difference that, in her case, she deliberately wants to make visible. And thus, through the repeated gesture of her hand, and her mind, the artist keeps remembering that, faced with the technification of the contemporary world, the homogenisation of thought, the superficiality of capitalist practice, and the coldness of data, her action becomes a kind of resistance, resituated within the space of the intimate and the corporeal.
These two procedures, series and repetition, are combined with a third process: settling. The accommodation of each of the sheets of paper in layers is transformed into a compacted image when the artist creates doubles in graphite or ink. The lightness of cellulose contrasts with the solidity offered by the vision of these materials, referring us to infinite process of layering and sedimentation that makes up our structures of thought and discernment about the world. The robustness of these vulnerable pieces alludes to the construction process through which we build knowledge about reality, creating on occasion systems and configurations that are seen as immovable. The question, therefore, would be: Are the definitions that we have about the world ‘a priori’ or, rather, on the contrary, constructions made by subjects through which we give meaning to the world, and as constructs, subjected to changes and reformulations? The perspicacity of such a question is resolved in the materiality of these drawings/objects. The fragility of the materials and the economy of the media point to and evidence the problems of representation — both of the image and of our mental schemes —, and in the very contradiction or ambivalence between the livid and the compact, Laura Mesa reiterates that the permanence and anchoring she achieves during the production of her work are at tension with the weakness of a world that, like its materials, is somewhere between transitory and settled. Hence, following Habermas’s school of thought, we might suppose that thinking about the end compromises the end, but not the world.