Oscar Abba: Constructor of Small Objects, Philosophy, and Silence
My artistic discourse does not stem from an abstract theory, but from a vital geography that spans three cities and a shared obsession with matter and memory. My work as a goldsmith is, in reality, the result of a long conversation with silence.
Chile: Philosophy at the Threshold
My formation took shape in the Chile of the 1980s, a time when philosophy was not merely an academic discipline, but an exercise in resistance. Studying critical thought in a context of imposed silences taught me to read what is left unsaid, to seek truth within the cracks. There, I understood that words can be silenced and burned, yet the idea remains like a glowing ember beneath the ashes. This is the root of my concepts and my landscape: the conviction that absence is a form of presence that demands to be named.
Rome: The Psychology of Inhabiting
Later, in the Rome of the 1990s, my background in psychology allowed me to understand the object not just as form, but as a bond. I discovered that the spaces we inhabit—and the objects we create—are extensions of our psyche and our mourning. Rome, with its superimposed layers of history, taught me that memory is a malleable material, much like the metal I work today at my goldsmith’s bench.
Barcelona: 23 Years of Intimacy
For more than two decades, my professional life has been indissolubly linked to Barcelona. I have had the privilege of translating Architectures and Paintings from around the world into the scale of metalwork, creating architectural models and jewelry. This “technical intimacy” has allowed me to know buildings and works of art beyond their aesthetics: I know them in their structure, in their rigor, and in their solitude. After 23 years of inhabiting blueprints and canvases, I felt the need to propose a dialogue with my own history: with its ethical dimension and its connection to philosophy, psychology, and aesthetics.