When he was a child, Pablo Roso believed that islands floated on the sea and that he could cross Ibiza by swimming beneath it. At age 8, he tried to test this idea, but the more air he took in, the more he floated, and he was never able to dive deep enough.

Floating also implies living with a certain drift, inhabiting a state of imprecision. Collective memory—the images and narratives that shape it—functions much like the island he imagined at sus 8 years old: it is structured on its own buoyancy. However, if we accept the idea that our home—and thus our history—has an element of buoyancy, we must then ask what (or who) keeps an island afloat.

His installation is an exercise in images, engaging in dialogue about what rises to the surface and what sinks within a territory submerged by the apnea of its own memory.