Aware that, within current corporate discourse, narrative has become a device reduced to the exercise of visualizing an entrepreneurial venture, where every mistake is converted into a functional element, Fango presents us with portraits of collapse. With every earthquake and financial crisis, the façades of development projects are reduced to an obsolete dermis that must urgently be shed. The history and the growth charts remain. Human capital evaporates in the oversaturation of screens and the constant abstraction of what was once an office. Disorientation is the primary sensibility with which we approach these paintings. In these landscapes, staff reduction extends into the reduction of the person.
The excess of visibility that defines our time has allowed us to liberate the interface from the need to possess a face. What matters now is tone, assertiveness, the simulation of whatever resonates as familiar to us. We do not see the cables, just as we do not see the chips, the workstations, or their states. A potential employer joins the session, floating optimistically within an innocuous blur. But gathered here is the mud, insistently reminding us that there is pigment in the neutrality of language. There are traces in the flexibility of working conditions. There is tissue in the perpetuity of the mood that inhabits this airborne connection. There are orifices in the organicity of increasingly fragmented schedules. There are hairs in the freedom that is abstracted, and there, in its impossibility of being identified, scarcity emerges. There is human grease in the mutability of the contract.
F. Tibiezas Dager