Equilibrio

Three school chairs aligned along a diagonal bear the weight of a single childhood seemingly unfolding in successive stages. In this stepped progression, three boys (or perhaps a single figure captured across different moments of his growth) strive to remain upright on the wooden seats, moving from the initial hesitation of the smallest child to the suspended concentration of the oldest, whose outstretched arms emulate the archetypal gesture of a tightrope walker.

The background completely discards conventional classroom perspective, transforming into a pedagogical palimpsest. The surface operates like an aged wall or worn page where geometric schemes, coded calligraphic notations, and mineral-wash stains coexist. Behind the figures, a dense dark mass with organic contours, crossed by white venations reminiscent of botanical branchings or neural networks, contrasts with the clarity of the sepia ground. This layering opposes the rigidity of codified knowledge (formulas, theorems, and script) against the physical vulnerability of one who seeks to inhabit it.

That friction between abstraction and the living body is reinforced by the pictorial treatment. Gallina renders flesh, the folds of the white shirts, and the texture of denim through a crisp figurative modeling, struck by a clear, direct light that casts sharp shadows toward the viewer. Conversely, the ground upon which the chairs rest dissolves into translucent washes and pale blue glazes, dismantling any structural certainty.

The balance evoked by the title ceases to be a mere physical feat, becoming instead a metaphor for formative transition. Growing up and being educated are presented here as an act of quiet risk, where the mind gathers signs while the body learns, rung by rung, how not to collapse over the void of its own questions.