When I arrived in New York, I started frequently to see dead birds, victims of collisions with the windows of skyscrapers. I drew them, researched their taxonomies, and their conservation status. Perhaps these birds dying all over the city pushed me to think about the deaths that sustained my life. The lives of those animals that end up on my plate. I started saving the bones of all the animals that I eat; I learned how to clean the residues from them. I wanted to see as before a physical magnitude, and how much my consumption measured, but it began to be clear that what I consumed refused to be consumed silently, as just a volume that disappears. Despite my efforts, the marrow of those bones kept dripping, leaving marks of moisture on the surfaces where they rested. The bones continued weeping, sweating, and that crying was telling me something that resists being measured and discarded. What dies, persists, exists, and moves with us. There is no measure for what continues to live after death.

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This sculpture is part of the Ghost Dance Installation. 2023