Chalk Dust

The concrete in this photograph seems to dissolve into a fine haze, almost as if chalk dust were suspended above the ground. The sight took me back to the green chalkboards of my childhood, where lessons appeared in white lettering, remained for a while, and vanished with a few strokes of the eraser.

That memory brought Zé Ramalho’s song Chão de Giz to mind. Its image of chalk marks on a surface that cannot preserve them speaks of a love shaped by separation, unequal circumstances, unfulfilled possibilities, memory, and time. Skateboarding offers another way to think about what remains and what disappears. A skater’s knowledge is built through experience: falls, tricks, adjustments, advice from others, victories, and defeats all leave their mark.

But no skill is permanent. Even the most accomplished skater has to keep practicing to maintain precision and control. Movements that once came naturally can become uncertain when neglected. Like writing on a surface that gradually wears away, acquired knowledge needs to be renewed through use.

This is where the song, skateboarding, and the thinking behind this exhibition come together. The past is not something we simply preserve and leave behind. It continues to shape what we do next. Every experience becomes part of the knowledge brought to the next attempt, the next trick, the next fall. What has already happened remains active in what is still being made.

The ground in this photograph looks like a chalkboard to me, covered in traces that may not last. Yet the skater keeps adding to them. The story is never finished; it is rewritten with every movement.