‘monumento mínimo’
— Nix Thérèse
What comes to mind when you hear “monument”? Lasting in material, specific in hero status, large enough in scale to hold a space, right? ‘Minimum Movement’ pushes back against these common perceptions, instead finding significance in mutability, anonymity, and the small-scale. Each shot of this monument revels in the liminal space: between solid and liquid, each ice figure slowly undoes themself atop stone or wood. Even their bodies can’t seem to choose a color, instead switching between clouded white and clear as cracks plume inside their bodies like tiny fireworks across their chests, faces, and legs. The sun propels their weight forward or backward, even curling them into fetal position. The sun beheads, de-legs, crushes to lumps then puddles waiting to be swooped by the ever-present rays.
This legion is never meant to last more than a few minutes, demanding presence in the public space until they can occupy it no more. It’s frightening to think how quickly climate unravels hours of process, but more than that, each figure is about the size of a hand (as shown by the many portraits of citizens reaching for a figure). Each figure is touched and does touch; even the space between these lines of bodies can’t keep them from melting in/onto another. These bodies whittle, once hundreds of equally sized hands to just one palm offering to the wind. Instead of the hero perpetually in glory, the monument becomes a series of mouths, consuming til they’re consumed. Here we recognize the fleeting nature of legacy—though we still seek, honor only lasts insofar as an audience’s fickle memory.