She knows. Times and spaces away, she captured it. She knows how I feel; and how I feel is real. 

The description read,

“The world is complicated and sad; it is almost impossible to make people understand one another,” said Maria Martins in speaking about her work O impassive (The Impossible), a plaster sculpture of two tentacled figures caught in a state of tension between attraction and repulsion. At play in this work where Martins addresses eroticism and desire, where she represents the complexity of human bonds is the concept of limit.” 

Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires CABA (Malba), 2023

Photo: The Impossible sculpture by Maria Martins on display at the Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires CABA (Malba), 2023

The two figures — maybe representing male and female — are close enough to touch each other with their tentacles, but far enough to create a space in between that’s almost the size of their bodies. 

Where is the limit?

The distance between us was the size of an ocean, literally speaking. But the ignorance of attraction and the promise of the passionate first kiss persisted. Everything was possible then. No limit. 

Until it showed up, like a tip of an iceberg, a quiet, but stern warning. We couldn’t move past it, through it, or around it. So there we were, one day, our bodies touching, feeling far, far away from each other. 

Which part was real? Which one imagined? Was the limit always part of the equation?

Was it always impossible? 

Far away from both the dream and reality, in Buenos Aires, I watched my thoughts disappear into a sculpture that captured it all before it had happened. 

Everything clicked. Everything also came crashing down. It was always impossible. 

With acceptance came sadness; with sadness came rebellion. 

Why impossible?

If we are all one — made up of the same substance, created in the same image, fearing and desiring the same things — then where does the separation come from? Why the limit? 

The sculpture expanded and contrived as I walked around it, watching the light and reflections change and create movement between the two figures.  

Maybe it’s a dance? A play? A balance between the limit and the union. Both real. Both imagined. Both possible.