I'm braking fallen branches of native trees and centenaries, from the Botanical Garden of Chiloé and I'm installing them in a central room of the museum. The broken branches suggest bones, with them I form a square on the ground. Decontextualization, extinction is approaching... The original trees are devastated by monoculture and the wood industry. Devastation stifles the forces of life, we don't see it.
I wear a black Dervish skirt and a black blouse, I get naked, I enter the square, the sharp ends of the branches embed themselves into my feet, maximum concentration, resistance. I wrap my body with gauze and I extend my arms in a cross... I am submerged in the murmur of the flora, in the wooden walls, that breathe, in the cold that bristles my skin.
Every day man crucifies himself.
In the background, in the adjoining room, through a window, you can see the rainy and blurred landscape ...
