There are galleries that display artwork. And there are places, much rarer, that display a relationship with the artwork. Memoria Gráfica belongs to this second category. Its minimal scale, its mix of storage, cabinet, office, and display window, makes one look at things differently. Not from a reverential distance, but from the proximity of someone entering a space where art is part of everyday life.

Perhaps that's why it interests me so much. Because it is more like a studio than a gallery. More like the back of the house than the facade. And I have always been fascinated by precisely that: the corners where works rest, where papers are stacked, where magazines, documents, frames, proofs, remnants of conversation and judgment appear. Everything that normally remains off-stage and yet often contains the true atmosphere of a project.

In my case, moreover, there is immediate recognition. Memoria Gráfica interests me because it dialogues directly with a space that is part of my world: an intimate place, not openly accessible to the street in the same way, but permeated by that same logic of a living archive, of curated accumulation, of a real coexistence with the works. Perhaps that's why I feel it is so close to The Collector. Not as an external reference, but as a confirmation of an existing sensibility.