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A lagoon is not just a body of water. It is a threshold. An indistinct mirror where one does not know what lies at the bottom—an image of the underworld, of sacred spaces, of hidden knowledge. Many representations associated with profound and symbolic concepts across various cultures. 

In this exhibition, “Laguna” is a metaphor for thought, intuitions, reflections, and symbols. 

Rafael Díaz begins with painting, just as he did ten years ago—back then, on paper—but this time he approaches it as a problem that is never fully resolved. For him, painting is a paradox: it is flat, yet it cannot be absolutely flat; it is material, yet it points toward the invisible; it seems to represent, yet it also invokes. In his work, surfaces are constructed from the reverse side, as in ancient Venetian mirrors, where the image is painted from behind to create a surface that does not absorb but rather reflects. A technical gesture that becomes a strategy for looking through the reflection. 

The images draw from religious, alchemical, magical, and geometric traditions. There are elements taken from medieval iconography, such as Van Eyck’s chalice, and symbols of Western alchemy, such as the serpent devouring itself in an eternal circle (ouroboros), the Tree of Life, the opus magnum, the pentagram, and the star, among others.

In “Laguna,” alchemy is a technology of the soul that combines science, art, religion, and philosophy to contemplate the transformation of matter. Sacred geometry serves not only as a formal resource but also as a way to establish connections between the body, the cosmos, and knowledge. 

In the center of the room stand three impossible solids: truncated cubes inspired by Dürer’s engraving *Melancholia I*. Figures that cannot be constructed, yet there they are, standing tall, defying the logic of volume. In that image, a woman contemplates a scene filled with symbols, tools, and measurements. Everything is set up to create… but nothing happens. That is the melancholy of modernity.

That feeling also appears in other pieces in the exhibition: a staircase leading nowhere, lighting that overwhelms rather than illuminates. Amid these references, humor emerges: a nod to the Disney short *Donald in the Land of Mathmagic*, where geometry and the golden ratio are explained as spells. It’s ironic, but also serious: Pythagoras and cartoons share the same musical staff.

The use of gold and black reinforces this dialogue between the sacred and the illusory. Since the 13th century, gold has been a problematic color: it cannot be fixed as a pigment; it always depends on light; it is always changing.

In the video accompanying the exhibition, the artist eats a $100 bill. It is a performative gesture, but also a commentary on capital as an impossible loop: every attempt to escape it ends up being absorbed by its logic. 

And how do I relate to capital in the face of that? And what does all this mean? And why is all this magical?

“Laguna” is, then, a place where boundaries dissolve and thought becomes reflection.

Text: Angelina Guerrero

Credits: This text is part of excerpts from a conversation between Rafael Díaz, Gabriel Zea, and María Adelaida Samper. Moment 1: three characters gazing at the lagoon from the shore