There is a stone in Muxía
over the rocks of the coast
that people call
THE WAVING STONE
but that I never saw
moving.
Instead
I heard people climbing on it
jumping
singing
talking
trying to reproduce a movement
searching for
a sound
to identify with.
Something like the tongue
a broken stone
would speak.
There is a stone in the coast of Muxía -a sailor village in Galicia- who used to produce a loud, deep sound. People called it The waving stone, since its side-to-side movement made the noise.
However, I never heard it live. The stone broke during a storm in 2017. What I saw every time I go there is people jumping on it, even though they know it is not going to move. There is in the repetition of that simple action a will to find a sound with which to identify, something that I relate to my bond with my tongue. The stone, something that we took for granted its durability, broke at the same time that the transmission of the Galician began to do so.
By using the gap between The Waving Stone of Muxía and the rocks below, and by making the 3D scanned broken fragment wave again through its own sound, this project -which takes its name from a popular sailors song of the place and consists of several material approaches- revolves around the contradiction of trying to insert movement into an image; of trying to experience something lost, as if someone were jumping on a broken stone knowing it won´t move.














