The inflatable bubble in Düsseldorf became a temporary organism: it expanded, collapsed, breathed, and held us inside as we worked for hours, painting, wiring, improvising, and welcoming the visitors who drifted in and out. Everything was part of the scene—the soft brown clothes I carried back from Mexico, the shifting light, the plastic skin swelling around us like an architectural lung. Rather than a set, the bubble acted as a processual stage where labour, play, and fragility converged. The installation existed only in that rhythm of inflation and release, a socioplastic chamber where time thickened, gestures accumulated, and the boundary between artwork and action dissolved completely.
