At the beginning they were just bodies and spaces. And that was enough. That was enough to gain admission to the show. And things were going smoothly, the people passing by each other, or the way that some allowed others to pass on by. When does everything start to break up? To come apart at the seams little by little? Special attention must be paid to that first crack, because that is the moment when everything begins to fall apart.

En las afueras we see men and women just like us, houses like the ones that occupy the outskirts of our cities, and we hear words that we've heard one thousand times before, but this is not supposed to be a realistic representation. The characters don't have names, the suburban setting could be any town or city and the movements are slow and solemn. We are simultaneously between the workings of a classic tragedy and lost in a strange contemporary theatre performance. There are three couples that seem to live together, but they just look at each other and touch each other as if they don't believe anything they are seeing. It can't be possible that this is what it has come to. It can't be possible that the time and space they inhabit are so unbalanced, to the point where they seem uninhabitable.  The spaces are ruins of what they once were, while time has been smashed to pieces, like the archaeological remains among which one of the male characters, restless, moves about. Or like those super modern buildings that stand at the city's edge like an undeniable metaphor for those people who also live on the outskirts. Life has stepped outside of itself to fight a duel on different terrain. But against who? Against its own ghost: in reality, En las afueras is also based on horror films - that spectacle created by the night and by the shadows.

The exhibition catalogue features an essay by Carlos Losilla entitled The limits between things.