I know little of Argentinian history, but this hasn’t — and won’t — go forgotten.
Thanks to the film
@argentina.1985 , I rediscovered the dictatorships of Argentina.
The responsables of the atrocities that occurred during those years were brought to trial and prison thanks to the voices — the people’s voices.
Luckily for my existence, my dad was forced to flee the country and didn’t have to live through those times, unlike others in my family.
Once again, Argentina recalled the power of the people. This summer, during
@bienalsurarte in Argentina,
@fernandofarina31 invited my dad to recreate the installation that had been the reason for his escape.
The installation has now been reproduced three times, as a way to salute the importance of freedom of expression. (Pics of 1998
@fundacion_proa , 2016
@bellasartesargentina and 2025)
Designed as restroom without toilets, to trick to public, but it's the public that decided to go in and still make a use of it. People wrote on the walls of these “fake” bathrooms, complaining about the dictatorship — somehow a polling place at the time of the military coup of ’68. The installation ended up being censored, provoking a rebellion among artists and the closing of the important Instituto Di Tella.
At the Bienal, they reconstructed these toilets — and as you can tell, people still have a lot to say.
Freedom of expression took a break after that first installation in May ’68, but in 1983, it came back.
My dad wasn’t involved in politics at the time, but as an artist — and a rebellious character — part of a strong avant-garde movement, his Untitled piece ended up being called Los Baños 68 by newspapers and history books. This time, he gave the canvas to the people.
Having heard the story of this installation so many times, I had grown almost indifferent to it. But seeing again its power and necessity — today, in 2025 — I’m reminded that we are fortunate to live in times of information, knowledge, and sharing.
May art always allow expression. And with that, perspectives of our times — endless times of repression, you might say — may we keep on learning from them, and trust that it will make a difference in the future.