The shoreline of Buenos Aires bordering the River Plate is generally inaccessible almost throughout its whole length—except for nature reserves, it’s either comprised of private residences, the port, industrial complexes, or concrete walls. Nevertheless at the northern part of the estuary, Diego Bianchi has found a short strip of land close to the city limits that opens to the river like a slash between clearly delimited territories. He regularly goes there to collect debris cast up by the river which he then might use in his artwork. He also likes to think that he is unconsciously driven to this site to experience an encounter between water and land that reminds him of the beach town where he lived as a child.
This was the first stop on our day out and it inaugurated a series of experiences involving the crossing of borders between controlled and planned environments on the one hand, to those that are lawless, free reigning, and have been left to regulate themselves on the other. There was no official pathway to this part of the shoreline, no formal invitation to access this chaotic, unattended place. This no man’s land is not inaccessible if you are simply willing to enter it.
This was also our first encounter with a scene of accumulation. There was estuarine air, wind, humidity and sand—enough to turn the visit into a summery outing—but the area left for walking was filled with wire, iron, concrete, fallen trees, and a kind of confetti made up of crushed rubbish. All sorts of things had been brought together by the river tide, recognizable bits and pieces that might easily go out of sight yet never entirely disappear.