“Cielos” series
Anchoita
Buenos Aires, Argentina 🇦🇷
Acrylic paint and textured paint on concrete wall
24 x 27 m
2025
Support by Estudio Puente
Photos by Muerta de Arte
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“The sky in pieces” by Andrés Goldberg.
The painting covers the entire wall. Yet the palette is sparse—only two colors, blue and white. A minimal use of resources brings to life one of the simplest forms the eye can recognize: a vast blue sky. It is divided into three sections: while the side panels are covered with clouds, the central one presents a gradient, from deep blue at the top to an almost white pale blue at the base. The clouds are not merely a detail. Without them, the image would be purely abstract—it could evoke a sky, an ocean, or simply a primary color. But the artist’s gesture is clear: he has placed before us a sky that covers the immense, stripped-down surface of the party wall. Contemplating it in its immensity is easy. Located on the boundary between Chacarita and Villa Crespo, in the city of Buenos Aires, no construction obstructs the view.
Following this description, it might seem that the work seeks to create a mirage that magnifies the presence of the sky within an urban landscape that tends to grow vertically and limit its visibility. However, an element that might appear secondary interrupts the illusion. The brick lines, rendered with textured paint, recall the underlying material—the surface beneath that the paint covers. The wall emerges through the blue that seeks to take over the entire plane. It appears as straight lines that create blocks of sky, dividing the composition into fragments.
What are these fragments of sky? How should they be interpreted? What are we to do with them? One idea begins to take shape if we think about those moments when our gaze unexpectedly settles on any corner of the city. There, fragments abound: billboards—some occupied, others vacant—old party walls that condense the histories of construction and demolition of other buildings, newer and gleaming ones that point toward a not-so-promising future, countless windows, graffiti, murals by so many artists, colors, marks, letters, and signs.
To move through the city is to collect these fragments. We all do it, all the time, according to our own possibilities, playing with our memories. We quickly forget them, only to later, unexpectedly, connect them with other fragments according to the whims of our urban unconscious. In this way, the city loses its unity, becomes unstable, and takes on the form of puzzle pieces that never quite fit together.
Driven by this experience, the work extends beyond the party wall on Velasco at 1500. It is not intended for contemplation, nor to hypnotize us with its beauty or technique. Rather, it can be understood as a search in which the painted pieces of sky merge with other pieces—the ones that accumulate in the gaze of those who move through the city. Jorge Pomar has already painted many other skies in Buenos Aires. Some just as large, others smaller, on the façade of an old house or on small canvases scattered in a park. Each one prepares a new encounter shaped by chance. It opens up another possibility for organizing the images of the city that rush toward our gaze, often charged with violence.
In this image, the new and the old no longer represent contradictory orders. Temporalities intersect. Here, a party wall is no longer just that wall waiting to support an advertisement, to shelter a new construction, or to deteriorate through neglect and abandonment. Nor is it the canvas of a monumental work meant to dazzle us as if nothing else existed there. The pieces of sky allow the wall to reveal itself as a space where our ways of seeing the city are inscribed—visions that are infinite and can always be reconnected in new ways, playfully.