Meeting Points

Let us begin at the intersection of two lines. Like the hands of a clock, or a drawing compass laid on its side upon the architect’s desk. Forgotten planks of wood, offcuts stacked for a fire. A complicated crucifix or a simple garden trellis, incorrectly assembled. Yet there is something careful in the way Alberto García-Alvarez has coloured and placed these pieces of wood. They are like sigils, meticulously arranged to summon or to seal, angles and hues chosen to enhance their power .

The artist calls his wooden constructions ‘crossings’, but of what? Of objects, of wood over colour, blue over yellow, yellow over dark, over silver? Of ideas, perspectives, emotions, crossing paths, over obstacles, beyond prejudices? Or perhaps these constructions stand in for the act of crossing. A voyage across the sea, the fording of a stream. Often, we humans will create concrete markers to signify a safe place to make a crossing. We cross, guided by lines, lights, flags and poles. Zebra stripes, a peg thrust in the mud tied with a scrap of white cloth. We cross when the storm subsides, when the way is clear.

Idly scrolling through dictionary entries, searching for meaning I may