Only, whereas in previous years many of their creations were expanded into sculptural installations, in which their figures have been separated out from their backgrounds, some of their installations of cut-out figures change radically not only depending on the exhibition space, but also the wider place where they are exhibited: city, country, culture. Johannesburg is not the same as Mexico City or Havana as Palma de Mallorca. But now, after the shrinkage endured by humanity through the trauma of a global pandemic, where virtuality was so decisive, in this process of detachment from context, where the background metaphorises the dislocation of the subject; chroma keying or greenscreening solves any sequential gaps in any narrative we want. Therefore, from the expansive, their work has been confined to the spatiality of one of the domains they best control, the domestic sphere. Or more than the domestic sphere, its theatricalisation.
There are very few things as domestic in the 21st century than a TV screen to which gaming, media or internet connected devices are linked. They, who have always made fun of the solemnity of authorship, have invited graphic programmer Diego B. Brito, their former classmate at the University of La Laguna, to collaborate under their instructions in an audiovisual work that has two viewing options: 1 as an interactive video game, 2 as video art. A work that recreates stations of their previous pictorial work, turning them into scenarios where the fiction of two digital avatars -of themselves- can be deployed. Even responding to Didi-Huberman and his need to surround the pictorial object or event from behind, through theatrical rigging.
A funnel piece, which filters, through itself, everything outlined in the triptych, where the painting of the greenscreen triumphs over the mastery of the twentieth century avant-garde, in that delicate nod to Tansey, that only “a few enthusiasts” will see, or the solitary flirtation with black and white that refers to the film Sherlock Jr. by Buster Keaton, where the expressive capacity of their formal resources is also extended towards the drawing tradition of watercolour, just as playful as those pictures where the figure does not pose, but moves, petrifies instantly before a gaze, where everything is performative (that highly millennial attitude); even knowing that if there is no pleasure, the process does not make sense. But the pleasurable and rewarding freedom that art continues to offer them, even if only as a playful memory, as a fetish-recording of a ritualised sequence that repeats itself, is endorsement enough.
After all, if this exorbitant regeneration of visual fictions where the subject is diluted merely confirms that our “life is pure theatre”, and figures can be manipulated in their backgrounds (greenscreen or otherwise), everything else is props… It’s all just props.