Dirty and clean water have the same sound. They follow the same ancient gap between the stones.The ear errs. Neither the eye nor the nose errs: that rotten water smells of death even if it sounds like life. A wrinkled paper and a mountain have reliefs, similar folds; so does the skin. There are wounds
on the earth, self-inflicted wounds or wounds we inflicted on her. We open graves or exhume bodies in search of answers, looking for something that explains violence or lies. There is a desire in the open earth, a desire to swallow you, as in the open skin. A wound that hurts and but is not felt. In Sergio Gómez’s work there is always the doubt of whether one has seen right, whether one has heard or smelled right. There is always the doubt of whether the earth, the crease, the water, the wound that we see, reflects pain or happiness.
HÉCTOR ABAD FACIOLINCE