Doors, doorknobs, panels, modular shelves,

            that were there and moved and transformed and stayed there

planks, wood strips, tiers, screens, sliding doors, tables, chairs,

            softened by the Venetian rising damp

oculi, windows, skylights, skirting boards, frames, lintels, beams, supports,

            assembled with welding electrodes

bulbs and lamp stands, tube lights and bases, supply pipes, junctions, PVC tubes, copper tubes, polyethylene and aluminium tubes, cables, sockets, switches, branches, elbows, taps, siphons, drains,

            valves and conduits and parts for

gooseneck lamps, fans, heaters, drills, saws, hammers, routers, repeaters, aerials, radios, equalisers, speakers, microphones, mobile phones, computers, projectors, a sewing machine, a fridge, hobs, solar panels, parabolic cookers… bacteria, animals, plants: a fig tree, two palm trees, seeds and various cuttings, a jasmine vine,

            planted by

Duncan gets dressed, nervous. The performance will be starting soon and the audience is filing in. Guillem mutters the text to himself: ‘Stromatolites: remains of cellular organisms that were among the first life forms on earth…’ He moves away. He travels the tight space carefully, his eyes never leaving the page. It is the third floor of an industrial building. Before being a centre for artistic creation, it belonged to a company that sold all kinds of bags, labels, tape and paper. When they went bust, they left behind huge metal shelving units, which are now used as partitions and cross the premises from end to end, forming a diagonal. The sun starts to set over Bellvitge. On the platform that runs along the south-west façade, the most punctual audience members pass the time contemplating the housing blocks outlined against the light. More people arrive. To get to the multi-purpose room, where the action is about to begin, you need to cross the whole floor. After the production office and the resident artists’ studio, you get to the central square. It is the heart of La INFINITA, a meeting place tucked in among the rest of the spaces: the multi-purpose room, the studios, the residence, the toilets, the mezzanine with seating –with a panoramic view of the whole space– the warehouse, and the construction workshop, which is currently being used as a bar. The final beers are served and someone takes a photo from behind the circular window of the table laden with food that presides over the middle of the square. The banquet organised for the attendees is part of TENDER, the performance by Duncan Gibbs, introduced as follows: ‘Tender means to show gentleness, kindness or affection. It is also a word that describes a person who looks after someone else, a machine or place.’ Trays of food keep appearing: chickpea hummus, green lentil salad with tomato and coriander, and baked sweet potato. The kitchen is in the residence, at the end of a trapezoidal corridor that leads to three bedrooms. Each bedroom has a double-height ceiling and a mezzanine. The mezzanines jut out with overhangs that seek the natural light, leaning over the residence’s communal areas, where there is now no one left. Everyone is in the multi-purpose room. Guillem covers the base of a pillar in thick, light turquoise liquid yogurt. The performance has begun. One projector shows live images of an endoscope camera submerged in a blue substance. ‘I have interrupted and observed the interdependent microscopic networks of organisms that are essential in forming the building blocks of an ecosystem.’ Another, a rocket exploding and scattering seeds all over the city. ‘If we zoom outwards to the human scale, we can see a parallel need for interdependency and cohesion. A need to care; not only for individuals but for ourselves as a collective body.’
Mark