Juan Diego Tobalina at Enhorabuena Espacio, Madrid

1.

Interferences are like crossed lines in an old broadcast. They disrupt the clarity of the image we try to form of ourselves and cause words to get stuck in our throats.

Building the self is like tuning into a frequency amidst a storm of signals. There are moments when the noise fades, the image seems sharp, and we think we recognize ourselves. Then the interference returns—echoes, the weight of our expectations, and the shadow of what we failed to become.

But the noise doesn’t just get in the way. It’s also the raw material of our creation. In those interferences, in those distorted fragments, lies a possibility of reinvention. In the chaos of noise hides the melody of the self—unique and ever-changing.

2.

A mirror, full of scratches, cracks, and the marks of time, only reflects fragments of who we are.

Every imperfection on its surface alters our image, making it harder to see ourselves as we truly are. This mirror is a reflection of our mind: a place where noise, doubts, and emotions intertwine.

In the process of building ourselves, self-esteem feels like an endless puzzle. Internal noise distracts us, drawing attention to our flaws and other aspects that define us. Yet, in that imperfect mirror, there is beauty.

3.

To measure the deterioration of his abilities, he asked me to buy him a notebook. In it, after every radio session, he wrote my name, my mother’s, his own, the place he was in, and the city where we lived. He also solved simple arithmetic problems.

As the sessions went by, it became increasingly difficult for him to remember the names and complete the equations. His handwriting gradually changed: it stopped being legible and turned into a series of shaky strokes, nervous scribbles that reflected the state of his mind on paper. That notebook became a treasure to me. I kept it, but I also hid it from myself: I preserved it to have it, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Seeing it would be too painful.