Horcón 2 y 3

The post does not illustrate a figure: the figure awakens from the post. In Horcón 2 y 3, Edgar Zúñiga intervenes decommissioned architectural timbers, preserving their mortise joints, structural wounds, and layers of weathered white paint flaked by time. The wood acts not as a neutral block waiting to be carved away, but as a substrate that had already accumulated a history of weight-bearing and sheltering before meeting the chisel's edge.

From this weathered matter emerge two austere faces, carved through direct cutting with angular and forceful features. The dialogue between both pieces is articulated through shifted heights and an asymmetrical rhythm: the right-hand timber rises slender and fragmented, while the left offers a flat, abrupt top edge, as if the skeletal remains of the original dwelling refused to disappear. The tool marks remain raw and unpolished, engaging with the exposed grain and the crusted remains of old industrial pigment.

In these faces lies a gaze that bypasses the viewer to settle on a shared horizon. Their sharp cheekbones and stern mouths evoke a totemic, almost funerary dignity, wherein human existence shares the destiny of the home it once anchored. The essential visual tension resides in that precise threshold where anatomy never fully detaches from the beam: the forehead merges into the carpenter's squared edge, the neck becomes a vertical pillar, and the back of the head remains embedded in the heartwood.

Zúñiga reclaims the vernacular horcón (the foundational timber that in rural architecture supports the roof against the elements) and transmutes its mechanical function into a spiritual presence. The sculpture thus establishes a poignant equivalence between structural endurance and existential perseverance, transforming the architectural relic into a portrait of silent gravity.