The semi-durational installation The Mountains Wore Down to the Valleys poetically frames the challenges of the pandemic, and more.

ALBUQUERQUE — Twenty-one vinyl records played simultaneously over three days last November, during the opening weekend of The Mountains Wore Down to the Valleys, a semi-durational sonic and visual art installation created by artists Marisa Demarco and Adri De La Cruz. The needles bore deeper and deeper into their locked etched grooves, distorting (though the term is debatable) Demarco’s urban sound compositions. Because the vinyl was etched, not pressed, the records’ number of plays were finite. Dust formed on the surface, evidence of things breaking down and, eventually, stopping.

Today, each record sits motionless in its respective player, on a pedestal custom-made by De La Cruz, arranged in a single-file line down the center of a wide corridor leading to a small gallery. The varying heights of the pedestals create a ridgeline-like effect that mirrors that of the Sandia Mountains as seen from Albuquerque. Many of us in this high desert city orient ourselves by those mountains or the Bosque, the woods that border the Rio Grande, some welcoming the chance to wander through either.

It’s easy to miss things the first time ’round, so I appreciated the structure of the show, which encourages repeat visits, not only to witness how the sounds (and silences) of the installation changed, but to consider other components in relation to change and the passing of time, a lineage of sorts.

Η συνέχεια εδώ.