There is something alluring about finding common ground with a stranger. At times, we unearth similar interests and mutual friends. Other times – and this has occurred to me on more than one occasion – we meet neighbours far from home whom we had never met before. The exhibition Na Fragilidade do que Persiste, which brings together works by Eduardo Freitas, Jéssica Burrinha and Mariana Maia Rocha, looks and feels like one of these unexpected encounters that initiate a massive chain of similarities. All three young artists, who were unknown to each other until this point, find in the Galeria Municipal Jovem de Vila Franca de Xira the radical shared element of their practice: an endless yearning to reclaim memory and trap the present, which is simultaneously so fragile and persistent.

The artworks in this exhibition are easy to count on one’s fingers, and yet the intimate relationship they establish with the venue invites us to contemplate them for a while. Laid out across the gallery is Um caminho que percorro (2024), a piece by Mariana Maia Rocha which, while it has already been shown, finds its ideal setting right here. The gallery’s horizontal layout and the partial suspension of the piece not only allow its length to be revealed, but also the textures and marks of time, which have been transferred to the latex through a frottage process. Like a pelt shed by a moulting animal, A path I walk is a decal of the pavement in her grandmother’s backyard, a reflection on the paths we tread, all of which inevitably shape the way we grow up. The same can be said of Como se o Muro respirasse (2023), a transfer of a wall surface in her house. These pieces, almost archaeological traces of his childhood, form a sensitive survey of a time that no longer belongs to the artist: either because it was never hers, or because – between changes of skin – it no longer is.

Memory is also central to Jéssica Burrinha’s artistic work. In Na Fragilidade do que Persiste, she presents Tão Longe (2019-2025), a massive set of ceramic letters stacked on a raw earth structure. Jéssica Burrinha draws on the correspondence exchanged between previous generations to recapture a time shrouded in cryptographic handwriting, yellowed paper and faded ink. Without coordinates or any indication of the addressee, these letters are those lost during the Colonial War, which persist exactly because their purpose has not yet been served. The result of repurposing the earth used in some of her earlier sculptures, Tão Longe is indeed what persists: the earth resisting the compulsive gesture of (re)making one’s own artwork; the letters lingering in time – wandering and ghost-like, always susceptible to forgetfulness and anonymous accumulation.

In Eduardo Freitas’ Contra tempo (2018-2025), a material cycle is completed. The bones that were once a body finally become stone. Although intimately associated with the ritualistic aspect of eating – a universal theme in the artist’s work -, the bones we see suspended in this small gallery room are the target of a reinterpretation. There is a relationship played out between the seeming lightness and weight of the suspended stone, the endurance of the material and the perpetual threat of shattering: the fragility of life is at stake. The artist appears to have taken advantage of the vanitas genre and the visual images of the city of Évora to rebuild a chapel of bones in his own image. But this chapel is not particularly inviting. We fear that we will find again, in this work, the words inscribed on the doorpost of the Chapel of Bones in the Church of St. Francis: ‘We the bones that are here await yours.’ So we step back and revisit the remaining exhibition, hoping for some sort of escape from this cycle that – like a cage – holds us prisoner. However, there is an awareness of the temporary nature of life that runs through all the pieces and, as such, does not allow us to break free. After all, the only certainty we take away from this exhibition is that, in the end, all that remains are our memories, our bones, the skins we shed along the way, and being six feet under.[1]

Na Fragilidade do que Persiste is at Galeria Municipal Jovem in Vila Franca de Xira until March 15.

[1] Adapted from “We are born with nothing (…) We leave this life with nothing but

being six feet under”, in How Much Land Does A Man Need?, By Lev Tolstoy.