Gaby Oshiro
Rooted in wabi-sabi, my practice moves between creation and decay, where materials reveal
their truths as they fracture, fade, and transform. Torn fibers, charred marks, and voids do not
decorate—they testify.
Shaped by Argentina’s dictatorship and the enforced disappearance of my father, this work
entwines personal history with collective memory, functioning as a quiet form of testimony. It
resists erasure, holding space for what might otherwise be forgotten, and invites viewers to
reflect on the persistence of absence. Within this shared space, the installation becomes a site of
contemplation—where echoes of the past can be felt, and where destruction and creation remain
bound together in the fragile act of remembering.
I propose an immersive installation where paintings, organic light sculptures, and altered found
objects—such as skeletal chairs—inhabit a single, interdependent space at the threshold between
creation and destruction, balancing chaos with order, stillness with violence, and the ephemeral
with the enduring.
Large-scale paintings will be transformed into sculptural forms that stand, fold, or suspend,
filling the room as tangible presences and culminating in a unified exhibition and catalog,
preserving and sharing the project’s concepts, processes, and outcomes.
Inspired by Arte Povera and Leonardo da Vinci’s “La pittura è poesia muta,” the work explores
the alchemy and evocative power of materials—washi paper, bamboo, pumice, fibers, turmeric,
acrylics, inks, and tar—through fire, tearing, burning, collage, décollage, and shodō
interventions. Marks drawn from Oracle Bone script and altered calligraphy serve as traces of
lost messages, fragments that resonate with history and absence.
Ultimately, my creative practice to become a vessel for cultural memory, transformation, and reflection.
Through Silent Poetry Alchemies, I aim to create environments where fractured histories are
revealed, where what remains is the residue of loss, the beauty of impermanence, and the
evocative power of materials to carry traces of personal and collective histories. It is an invitation
to witness change, contemplate fragility, and engage with the alchemy of creation through
destruction—a space where silence, scars, and absence are preserved and transformed into a
tactile, visual language that speaks across time.
The chair’s altered surface and delicate elevation evoke both transformation and loss, while its position in dialogue with a yellow canvas and nearby black-and-white abstractions forms a triangulation between object, memory, and trace.
Fragments of its body are gathered in the nearby black, wooden bowl, holding the remains like quiet evidence.
The chair’s skeletal form, stripped of its original function, and transformed into a symbol of absence, converses with its painted likeness on the adjacent yellow canvas and with the black-and-white circular abstractions nearby, forming a triangulation between object, memory, and trace. Its burnt surface and precarious elevation evoke both the violence of loss and the fragile suspension of what endures.
Updated: Jan 22
Gaby Oshiro MMXXV
The tension was already in the air before the dictatorship rolled the tanks on the streets of Buenos Aires. On the night of April 21st, 1977 fourteen armed men dressed in civilian clothes invaded the law firm of Enrique Gastón Courtade and Oscar Takashi Oshiro. They were forced to get into a Ford Falcon and set off for an unknown location with no return.
During the twentieth century, Argentina endured six coups d’état. The one from March 24th, 1976 is remembered as the most brutal due to the massive and systematic human rights violations, the worst crimes that human beings can commit on another. A CIA declassified document showed that from 1975 to 1978 the military dictatorship killed or disappeared/ desaparecido an estimated 22,000 people before it ended in 1983. Official records set the number at 30,000 people, but if we count the suffering of the victims, their families and friends, the number increases exponentially. The loss of just one person in this way would be viewed as an outrageous act by todays standards.
The Argentinean citizens were living in a culture of fear imposed by the dictatorship, their lives threatened by the military every day. They were living in an atmosphere of distrust where fellow citizens were able to denounce each other to the police. Being called “subversive” most likely meant a death sentence for the accused.
My father, Takashi, and his labor layer associates were called, “Los muchachos que defienden a los pobres”. (The boys that defend the poor). He was in charge of defending hundreds of factory workers in cases of unjustified dismissals. The last trial that my father was working on, was against a factory owned by the dictatorship’s Minister of Economy. Takashi halted his law school studies for a couple of years to work at a steel mill factory in an effort to understand the needs and conditions of the workers. His social conscience was viewed as unacceptable for the military. The wellbeing and happiness of the working class was the reason Takashi stood up against the status quo and at the end, he paid with his life.
At birth we bring potential and our actions show who we are to the world. Our uniqueness is an absolute singularity that opens an unforeseen effect. The act of creating is the testimony of my journey through this world, my brushstrokes also mark the traces of my father’s life, interlaced with politics and the history of Argentina. Keeping the memory alive of those who are no longer with us in a quest for “Memoria, Verdad y Justicia”, our loved ones continue to exist in cycle of timeless recollection. After more than forty years without closure, I still carry the impact of the atrocious actions delivered by the dictatorship just like millions of Argentinean citizens.
As visitors engage with my work, they become witnesses and active participants. It’s my invitation for everyone to reflect and see beyond the canvas or installation surfaces. The interaction transforms the pain/catalyst into a universal dialogue, understood by all individuals no matter their origins, gender or ethnicities.
