It’s been years that I haven’t been able to hang works of art on the wall, to decide
how to show and to dispose the works that have been with me for a long time.

Seven narrow shelves made with leftover oak slats on the wall of a studio.
The device defines a space in which to generate small sets of works.

The Wall is also a space to invite befriended artists to show their work in the room where I work. The aim is to be accompanied by small sets of works, share space for a while with each set. Its immediate predecessor was “Het Kabinet”, a space of another time and another place.

[Miren Jaio from a conversation with Filiep Tacq]

"Sometimes it happens, the reasons being often scarcely imaginable, that the greatest bullfighter chooses as the place where he will fight some decayed arena in a remote little town whose name the Madrid public has scarcely heard of. An arena that has been neglected for centuries, here overgrown with grass, a place where children play, there hot with bare stones, a place where snakes and lizards bask. The tops of the walls long ago carried away, a quarry for all the houses round about. Now only a little cauldron that will seat scarcely five hundred people. No annex building, above all no stables, but the worst thing of all is that the railway line has not yet been extended so far and there are three hours to travel by cart, seven hours to cover on foot, from the nearest station."

A fragment from Franz Kafka “The Blue Octavo Notebooks”, The Second Notebook, 1917-1919, translated by Eithne Wikins