Human beings exist in relation to a specific territory, and in one way or another, each individual represents a small sample of that territory to which they belong. This territory emerges from the inseparable union between the dynamics of ecosystems and the dynamics of communities and societies—or in other words, between nature and the civilization that advances. This territory is built day by day upon the natural world, which, like every living being, undergoes constant transformation as a result of the internal dynamics of its ecosystems and the influence of human activity. And as the territory transforms, so does the landscape—and so do we—because we are part of it.

My gaze leads me to examine territory and landscape and to question the idea of progress—what it produces and its consequences. I look to landscapes as sites of inquiry, where I find the balance to problematize the myth of progress through my work. In my research-based practice, the questions I ask are closely related to the notions of territory and landscape, shaped by my background as an engineer. This training permeates my perspective, as I turn to science and engineering as spaces of reflection and cross-disciplinary dialogue that I revisit repeatedly.

In New Horizons, a series of concrete elements embedded with moss are suspended from the ceiling by steel cables that descend to the floor. The concept of progress—from the Latin progressus, derived from pro (forward) and gressus (to go or walk), with the root gradus (step)—suggests advancing both forward and upward, overcoming successive levels or steps. The union of organic and industrial materials through a process of embedding moss into concrete, forming different levels—gradus (steps)—both suggests and questions the idea of progress as an improvement in the human condition, a forward movement of humanity.