Tear

This is it,” signed the despondent tear, as he gathered himself and some courage. He balanced his spherical form on the ledge, shivered, and hoped for the gentle touch which would relieve him of his calling. But no, there is so little time... Tear by Cherie Garretson, English Senior "This is it," signed the despondent tear, as he gathered himself and some courage. He balanced his spherical form on the ledge, shivered, and hoped for the gentle touch which would relieve him of his calling. But no, there is so little time. Suddenly he tumbled down the satin cheek. The front end led the way, then followed, then led . . . leaving a part of himself behind. Coming to the edge of his existence he leapt freefall with heart in hand, only to melt away into oblivion on the weave of her shirt.

En resumen, el Telar del Invernadero para la 3 a Bienal de Bahía es un acto que especula, no una predeterminación de un producto financiero para el beneficio del proyecto neo-colonial, pero un tejido de una casi-imperceptible imagen nómada 17 dentro del juego global 18 , desafiando la ley de la razón antropológica, construyendo un medioambiente de aspectos particulares de lo inmaterial que cuestionan tanto el tropicalismo, el orientalismo, los vínculos con África, el poder del testimonio y el naturalismo. The aim was to promote a debate over the notions of time, the relations between men and nature; the use of herbs for nutritional, medicinal and sacrade purposes; triangles, pyramids, spirals, 4th dimension and a whole way of thinking space, the sacred and the personal and spiritual experiences, both from the artistic research and the candom-ble´s spirituality.
Curator Marcelo Rezende goes back through some of these questions in the interview below with Tata Mutá, trying do bring forward some of the potentialities of The Looming Greenhouse project.
Marcelo Rezende -What is a sacred space, is it possible to somehow define this territory?
Tata Mutá -I would start by telling you that the best sacred space, the most sacred place in the world is the human being. If you do not care for that space, you are lost.
Marcelo Rezende -But can you create a sacred space, in a sense of a territory?
Tata Mutá -The sacred space is a place where you will nurture your spiritual health. It is a place where people meet to talk, to see each other, to see themselves, to discuss issues, it is a place where you feed all spirituality, regardless of religion.
Marcelo Rezende -So we meet people, we meet ourselves, and what is the result?
Tata Mutá -The result is very simple. Because actually living is simple, it is us who make it difficult. According to Candomblé, living is simple, and when you meet yourself and the other (and that´s the bid of Candomblé: that the process of living happens from inside out, so there is no answer out there, it is within you). This sacred space that is made for that, to offer one an orientation, a direction. We understand that there is only one path; a single arrow.
And that arrow, one needs to be aware to it. The sacred place is suited for this: to strengthen the arrow, to learn to direct a path, to Tata Mutá -In meeting with these others, which is meeting with many paths, one must understand that others are there exactly so you can better understand your own path; that is, who you are.
(At that moment the phone rings, and TM conversation with a woman).
The dialog returns as such:

Caroline A. Jones
Luis Berríos-Negrón proposes what he calls a "pyramid" -part ziggurat, part platform, stretching between the mezzanine and roof level of the Teatro Castro Alves in Salvador, Bahia, Brazil. The theater' s roof is intended ultimately to host a garden, both cooling the interior of the building and offering a site for urban agriculture -perhaps of medicinal plants -while leaving the Campo Grande park unencumbered. Berríos-Negrón' s "pyramid" is likewise imagined to include a garden, not above but within its greenhouse components. As with Oscar Niemeyer' s much larger marquise in São Paulo' s Ibirapuera Park, intimately in dialogue with the garden of Roberto Burle Marx, the proposed structure is a kind of aegis symbolically activating a space for people while fruitfully entangling itself in the Brazilian ecosystem. Unlike Niemeyer' s permanent, horizontal, concrete marquise, Berríos-Negrón' s pyramid will be a temporary, zigzagging, glassy affair -yet both these structures foster new forms of sociality. "To potentiate" social doings, LBN' s torqued, sectioned pyramid will point beyond itself.
Thus, it is an index. 1 To what actions does it point? I interpret it here as deploying the antropofagic impulses of the Brazilian avant-garde (perhaps generationally performing an anthropophagy of antropofagia itself). 2 The point is to inhabit certain European geometries -the rational stepped structures of the Enlightenment (think of Ledoux' s "Maison des Gardes Agricoles"), only to undo them.
In part, this necessary undoing is done through the indexical -pointing away -but unlike Peirce' s index, it doesn't indicate a past event but a future set of potentials: pointing to the imagined garden, indicating the "warp" of the roof as the site of a desired "knitting of a mental, vegetable, and collective tapestry," per Berríos-Negrón. The structure also points to a future in the other direction, back toward the mezzanine.
Here, inside the pyramid-as-greenhouse, "a program for activist and medicinal agriculture" will take place. 3 Evoking the HaHa group in their AIDS-activist garden in a downtown Chicago storefront (1991-95), the aim is for an aesthetic intervention to create a highly visible, accessible domain of small -scale, urban agriculture by which healing can be claimed by the community (rather than peddled back to them by neo-colonial big pharma). 4 If corporate chemists attend to indigenous understandings of bio-active agents from the Amazonian rainforest in order to appropriate that knowledge for industrial production, Berríos-Negrón' s project points to a reversal of such one-way information transfer. When activated by planting, the twinned agro-architectures of greenhouse and roofgarden will simultaneously validate community forms of medicine, and create platforms for sharing curative practices through the politics of display. Such aspirations aim to seed permanent change beyond the temporary conceit of the biennial, relying on the communities engaged to take up the project and vascularize it into human cultural institutions. 5 An index always aims at more than itself. So in addition to the indexical function of "pointing," Berríos-Negrón' s pyramid could be seen as a projection of a 4th-dimensional reality into our limited 3-dimensional world. Time is the key metaphor by which we try to grasp the next higher dimension, and a key medium for antropofagia. Take the transmutational work of Lygia Clark and Hélio Oiticica, who reinterpreted the Moebial steel of Max Bill as a wide band of elastic for linking the artists' paired wrists, torquing the one-sided surface through dynamic twining and stretching, producing a durationally-activated geometry. 6 Time becomes antropofagia' s medium in other ways as well. Against the rapid metronome of conquest and economic instrumentation (now updated for global capitalism), the contemporary anthropophage proposes the slow chemistry of digestion. Rumination, metabolization, and the molecular uptake of caloric energy feeds processes of tissue generation, the excretion of wastes, and the need to eat again. This energic cycle takes time, and is time, until time ends for the individual attempting to experience life in "the temporal scales of human, biologic, and cosmic time." Against these chronotypes we have, in Berríos-Negrón' s proposal, chronotopesspatialized time in the form of sectioned pyramids and the figures of greenhouse, tesseract, and candomblé shrine. In the latter space, Tata Mutá Imê tells the designer "Time is not chronological" -and I want to read this remembered conversation as signaling a specific discursive chronotope in which, and where, duration is purely experiential, opposing the logic of the clock. In our anthropophagic hunger for alternatives to grinding, coordinated (and hence colonial) time, this alogical time becomes a space for looming -the potentiation of the Berríos-Negrón greenhouse -a space in which all times can be present, or no times. Such a space aims at ritual suspension, akin to the suspension of politics that is carnival, or the suspension of business-as-usual that was theorized by Oiticica in his "Babylonests" as crelazer (creative laziness).
Even carnival is strictly bracketed by chrono-logic (and as such, carnival was theorized forcefully by Bakhtin as the necessarily temporary upending of power relations). But in Berríos-Negrón' s proposed chronotope, we apprentice ourselves as yearning outsiders to the very different sensibility Tata Mutá evokes in approaching Tembusyncretically nominated to be the saint of Time (but as continuity and recurrence, not measure). 7 Berríos-Negrón wants his pyramidal index to point to this chrono(eu)tope -a utopian timespace that might be closer to our imagination of an Edenic Pleistocene than the impatient, technology-mediated Anthropocene in which we live.
Even before we tipped into the Anthropocene, the greenhouse was already a figure for carving a different kind of chronotope out of the relentless logic of seasons and latitudes. In courtly structures of wood and glass, the royal gardener could grow oranges in Paris or Stockholm, and peacocks could winter over in Pfaueninsel or Kew. Updated and democratized for the masses, the greenhouse became Paxton' s "Crystal Palace," planting the machine in the garden where literature had long imagined it to be. 8 These technophilic visions of a packaged eden morphed into the Biospheres, Drop cities, and Dome cultures of the 1970s, fueling even the hydroponic locavore cultures of the present. As concerns over the growing human impact on the earth' s ecosystem have increased, ways to escape that fate have proliferated in pods, spheres, and geodesic structures. Berríos-Negrón wants toward off some of these associations through his theorizing of the Non-sphere, but they linger in references to the greenhouse as "an unrecognizable archetype of collective memory" or "a ubiquitous tool of the future" opposing the radical (human) alteration of the global climate system. The designer works these antinomies, exploring at many scales and with parametric modeling "the greenhouse as the ultimate boundary object" -spatialization and materialization attempting to hold off the collapse of our climate system, even as a greenhouse tomato, local to Holland, is shown to have 10 times the carbon footprint of an industrially-bred one shipped from a warmer clime. 9 Can a more nimble greenhouse design -parametric, modular, solar-powered, locally sourced -reverse these economies? Can anything shake off the greenhouse' s imperial referents and steep energy costs? If it is only a model of "work in progress," LBN' s Bahia pyramid certainly intensifies the questions.
In stratigraphy being adjudicated as we speak, the Anthropocene is upon us; it won't be easy to make a utopia (eu-topos) of the greenhouse in these conditions. 10 Linked as it already was to colonial fantasies of "having" the South in the North, of keeping the exotic ("invasive species") safely boxed within the local landscape, of inducing the technical sublime by placing the dynamo in the garden, the greenhouse was always-already modeling the human control of climate. What it could not anticipate was the anthropogenic effect happening outside of architecture altogether, affecting the entire planetary system. "The greenhouse effect" is defined by its escape from those figures of control, the actual greenhouses where we thought to contain it.
In such dire straits, what we want from Berríos-Negrón is nothing less than what a resurgent post-war Brazil demanded of Roberto Burle Marx and Oscar Niemeyer (there & then as developmentalist largesse, while here and now in Bahia it will be at the smaller scale of a temporary model).
We want an antropofagic cut into the body of European botanical fantasy and its inheritors in global capitalist pharmaceuticals. We want a reconfiguration of time (for Niemeyer, the futurism of modernist curves; for LBN, a chronotope that refuses sovereign claims to coordinated temporality while still trying to "buy time" with cultural barter and stubbornly metabolic knowledge exchange). The first level of transvaluation occurs when "exotics" are reinterpreted through the simple act of refusing their export: planted for homely use in Bahia. The second follows from the transplantation of the Berlin-based experiments of Berríos-Negrón, which will become localized, ideally, through the actions of individuals on the ground who might cultivate and disseminate these medicinal plants. Both movements facilitate reaching past Laugier' s primitive hut and Paxton' s modular fabrications to a new level of permeability to the Brazilian ecos (oikos or home) and its human co-habitants. Can the LBN structure stretch to another level of the index, pointing to the shrine of Tembu tended by the community led by Tata Mutá?
The architect-designer intuits that only by inviting such cultural practices in, to suffuse the intended flora and architecture together, can medicine happen. Can this appropriated botany, by which expatriated Africans parsed the foreign Brazilian forest for recognizable healing substances and forged the inventive wit of candomblé, produce the new dimension that LBN' s structure models?
The antropofagic ruminant will demand as much, defying chronologic for the chronotope.

NOTES:
1. In the philosophy of Charles Saunders Peirce, the index is a sign that points to an action outside itself that can be considered causative -e.g., a bullet hole in the wainscoting of a room is an index of the action of the bullet passing through it. 3. These quotes are from the prospectus from LBN studio titled "Nonspheres XIV: Looming Greenhouse," 3 April, 2014. Any unsourced quotes are from this document.
4. HaHa is a collaborative group of artists active in Chicago and elsewhere, and the project referenced here is "Flood," 1992-95, in which a hydroponic garden was opened in an urban storefront to grow nutrient-rich vegetables (kale, collards, mustard greens, swiss chard) and therapeutic herbs for people living with HIV and full-blown AIDS. See Nato Thompson, Living as Form (2012) and the group' s website, http://www. hahahaha.org/projFlood.html.
5. This happened in the case of the HaHa Flood project, which became a social center with educational, health, and aid services offered in a neighborhood context. 6. The reference here is to Clark and Oiticica, Diálogo de mãos (Dialogue of Hands, 1966). For an expanded discussion, see Caroline A. Jones, "Anthropophagy in São Paulo' s Cold War", Art Margins 2:1 (2013).
7. Tambú is not a fixed concept or identity, but in this instance data comes from Berríos -Negrón' s conversations with the candomblé priests of Salvador.
8. I note that scholars also chart a history in which Tambú designates an Angolan martial arts dance with sticks, performed to a strong drumbeat (with a drum called the tambú); the ritual came simultaneously to Brazil and Curaçao with the Portuguese slave trade, and then blossomed into a deeply political form of music played during the " Tambú  10. Geologists meeting in Washington DC to determine stratigraphic nomenclature are divided as to whether the Anthropocene should be periodized as beginning with the 19th century Industrial age and the beginnings of anthropogenic climate change, or whether strontium layers from 1950s atomic testing constitute a more precise marker. Tear do Terreiro

The house of the eyes of Time
The meeting was scheduled for nine o'clock am. Luis was supposed to arrive and get the motorboat at 8:30 am, from where we would go to Carmo, to meet Tata Mutá and ride together to the neighborhood Cajazeiras 11. But already then, the forces of nature softened the rigours of time. Coming from Itaparica Island, Louis depended on the humour of both tides and rain to make the crossing.
Almost an hour later, we finally left.
Throughout the trip, we followed Tata' s car as the urban landscape gradually changed.
Leaving the postcard scene -Mercado Modelo market with the Lacerda Elevator at the back, we passed through the remarkable modern architecture of Comércio, went by the chaos of valleys cut by overpasses in the expressways, by informal groupings and sheds of Highway BR-324, until we reached the simplicity of homes and stores in Cajazeiras. After traversing an endless labyrinth of streets, we rode a little street of mud, surrounded by fences dividing large green areas, with a few houses here and there along the way; countryside landscape. Tata pulled his car over a gate on which could be discreetly read: "Un Zokua Mutá Lambô ye Mameto Kayongo. Toma Kwiza". He came out and opened the gate, inviting us to come inside his house. From then on, it didn't take long for us to realize, it was his domain not only space, but mostly time.
The experience within the Terreiro was guided by Tata Mutá and the first part of the conversation took place in the kitchen. Luis seemed anxious and tried to find a way to express himself. Tata realized that and was assertive: "Relax, what' s the hassle? You'll have your time to speak." The talk of Tata, punctuated by long silences emphasizing more serious and reflective moments, was softened by his broad smile and the loud laughter all the time. "Do not bother, it´s that my nkis [saint, in kikongo -the language of the angolan candoble nation] is pretty childlike." He told us the story of the Terreiro and their struggle to preserve and continue the traditions of their nation, of Angolan origin. With that purpose an NGO was founded by him in 1990, Casa dos Olhos do Tempo que Fala da Nação Angolan Paquetan (House of The Eyes of Time That Talks About Angolão Paquetan Nation)¹. The rigor in following the precepts, the Kikongo language spoken among the "sons" of the house and the concern to pass to the next generations the songs, rhythms and stories transmitted orally, are some of the ways to preserve a tradition little known even in Bahia, where Yoruba traditions are more powerful and recognized. He spoke with pride of how these traditions had remained intact for centuries, "from mouth to ear" and interrupted the conversation only to answer in Kikongo the birds whistling to him from the woods.
Upon the arrival of his newest initiate , the youngest in the house, we headed towards the woods. Sute Mwgongo, or Augusto, is a huge man, but the gentleness of his gestures and the sweetness of his speech are inversely proportional to the weight of his body. He kneeded to greet his Tata [father, in kikongo] and saluted us with a warm hug, before catching the machete to lead us into the forest.
On the trail between the sacred leaves, from the smallest herbs under our feet to the tallest trees, everything seemed to have name and place. On the way we stopped to salute a baobab, yet small and unnoticeable to an unwarned like me, both men fell on their knees and bow a reverence in Kikongo.
Back to the entrance of the Terreiro, in front of the main house, we walked alone between some altars and temples, while Tata was attending an appointment. Then, again with us, he determined that it was time for Luis to speak. He listened attentively, silently and without saying much, invited us to see the temple Tembu, or Time, one of the most important deities of his nation and the only one without parallel with other syncretic cults of African origin.
Around a tree, a circular wall reminded us of the Restaurant Coati at Ladeira da Misericórdia, by architect Lina Bo Bardi which we had visited together some months before, in Luis' first visit to Bahia. At the gate of the temple, forged in the iron grid, a ladder, a pinwheel, a grill and a white flag, the main symbols of Tembu.
Until that moment it seemed that each other´s roads had not crossed yet, Tata and Luis´s. It worried me, and I noticed that it did Luis too, that the meeting would not get where we expected. Then, before the Tembu Temple, Tata began to speak.
In a way that I can not report, the experiences that had happened during the hours we were there together got condensed in the few minutes that followed. In the words of Tata, Luis´s initial intuitions seemed to merge increasingly and inseparably, with everything we had seen and talked throughout that day.
Like a spiral that spins faster and faster and, in this movement, establishes new connections and gains body, the conversation pointed to a very clear sense to that we were seeking. We realized this vertigo, as we stared at each other amazed, and suddenly everything seemed to just build a single sense, entangled in a weaving, like the threads on a loom.

Weaving an utopia
"The Garden is a carpet where the whole world comes to consummate its symbolic perfection, and the rug is a mobile garden through space. Was it park or rug that garden described by the narrator of One Thousand and One Nights? It is visible that all the beauties of the world eventually gather in that mirror. The garden, from the recesses of antiquity, is a place of utopia". 4 In his lecture on heterotopias, Foucault speaks of a kind of place where utopiasetymologically and conceptually that which has no place -can be located. These locations are characterized by the juxtaposition of spaces, either metaphorical or real, which are -or should be -incompatible.
Foucault reveals us that the most ancient example of heterotopia is the garden, which in ancient East culture gathered "all the exemplary and perfect vegetation of the world." These gardens had a magical significance and were reproduced by Persian rugs, which soon gained a special place in the Eastern legends as flying carpets.
No wonder Louis Berríos-Negrón invites us to "weave" a garden -or Terreiro. Since 2010 the artist researches -and weaves -flying carpets as immaterial spaces and mental landscapes, capable of carrying us beyond the prison of neocolonial systems that deform everyday life and force us to the violence of exile.5 His intuition, when he first saw the immense roof of the Main Hall of Teatro Castro Alves, was to reveal that surface, almost invisible to the street sight. He wanted to make it not only visible, but inspire this place with a public role and thus to promote new possibilities of relationship between people and nature. A community garden, which produces food, healing and social interaction, opposing relations mediated exclusively by capitalism.
Back to Bahia to deepen his research on the project, Luis meets Tata Mutá and his Terreiro. Then he realizes that time, more than space, was the fourth dimension to be revealed. The time constructed from the social experience of contact with nature, would be the transforming power of the piece. It was then indispensable that the "pyramid" concieved a priori was structurally reconfigured to hold in its shape this conception of time.
In continuous and vertiginous movement between the interconnecting stairs and ramps of its "social platform", Luis 6. This was the name originally given to the slab of the foyer, which until 1992 hosted a japanese garden.

CITIZEN PLATFORMS (p.24) Alejandra Muñoz
Access. Perhaps this is one of the main zeals of present human. The search for the accessibility to everything: physical accessibility to a place; virtual access to distant objects; access to information; making everything accessible to all; access the extremely inaccessible, from mind to outer space. We are familiar and immersed in the era of accessibility, constantly challenging the antagonistic interdict and incessant unattainable. And this is the crucial axis of Luis Berríos-Negrón´s proposal, a platform to access to an inaccessible, physically and mentally: the suspended garden of Campo Grande. A place that is not just a visual location but a situation of the imaginary.
For that, the position of the observer is placed at a site of Teatro Castro Alves (TCA) which is at the same time, a physical unexplored possibility (or rarely used) while daily presence of the existing terrace as well as a mental transgression of the usual understanding we have of the monumental ceiling of the main room. The artist displaces us from the everyday anaforia, ie, that visual tendency for upward deflection from the horizontal plane, from various points in the area for a concrete possibility to achieve the plan itself. In one hand there is the actual permission so that the observer can access the theater and terrace, and through the platform proposal by the artist, one can have access to a perspective view of Campo Grande, different from what we are accustomed. On the other hand, there is the metaphysical stimulus to capture the real extent of the roof of TCA as a continuity of the green plane formed by the treetops of the square -the suspended garden, both in physical space as in its imaginary possibility. Thus Luis Berríos-Negrón´s platform is a concrete expression of what is essential for contemporary art: a platform from which to read the reality, that mental site where one can reflect on our circumstances, a location from where to see the world, a situation of conscious imagination. But the piece is also an element that relates and recover a tradition of platforms little-known or forgotten in the urban, architectural and artistic context of Campo Grande.
First, it refers to the forming of Praça Dois de Julho, or as more popularly known Campo Grande, a "placeground" created in the nineteenth century to connect between the city and the newly born southern suburbs. In the architectural scale of the building, the foyer was designed as a 'glass sandwich', a space between two slabs, the one composing the foyer´s floor and the one above, the suspended garden. The entire body of the foyer was designed and built in a lifted slab as an idea of a floating floor marking subtly the difference between restricted and closed spaces of the building and its immediate open area. This idea was aborted in the last renovation in the 90s with the introduction of perimeter ornamental vegetation that hides the slab and which is inadequate to the initial modernist aesthetic. Originally, the suspended garden on the roofing of the foyer, where it is now installed Luis Berríos-Negrón´s platform, was designed as a green area but also with controlled access to public use -the true modernist playground. However, since the 1990s this also was eliminated due to the construction of a narrow terrace -almost unusable in the routine of the theater. Thus, the platform of public ground, the raised platform of the foyer´s ground floor and the suspended garden, that is, the relations and The current platform Luis Berríos-Negrón, in open space, Lina takes this concept and relates it to current circumstances the context of TCA. The transparent tubular structure has a functionalist sculptural sense, where what matters is not the visible face of the platform itself, but the view of the surroundings and the imagination that it enables the visitor. But the artist' s proposal also takes over and reverses the selective social relationship and the breakaway cabins Carnival all summers are mounted near the TCA. The rooftop deck is a transgression of the limits annually redesign the Campo Grande in the carnival by the private cabins, exclusivist scenarios that occupy public space and compromise the enjoyment of all on behalf of the profit of a few.

WEAVING AND UNWEAVING IN THE 4TH-DIMENSION (p.29) Luis Berríos-Negrón
The angled roof of the Castro Alves Theatre is vast. It is vaguely perceivable from the street -it is mainly visible from the sky -scraping towers around the Campo Grande park, or from outer space. Public access to the knife' s-edge of this large extruded triangle provides a previously unseen perspective that potentiates a present-future, as mental and agricultural space, of contemplation and vegetation. By coming closer to it, we try to weave an alternative social tapestry as nomadic image. This image aims to remind the temporal scales 1 , between human, biologic, and cosmic time, by resembling the absence of a viable climate for agriculture, countering the nihilist, crystallized product of neo-colonial modernity.
That non-objective, material image (p.20) is placed through the roof surface as an aspiration 2 to compose a political re-imagination of public space in Salvador. This potential, mental landscape and medicinal garden looks to instigate public reform for the benefit of the city on several levels: to sustain the collective unconscious and institutional memory of the city' s still strong idea of public space 3 ; provide an imagination of the form of this green roof (an already existing idea, studied and planned, but not yet realized) that significantly improves the temperature inside the Main Hall, creating At the present moment the great ongoing reform of the ACT, which doubles its area of votes spaces, however, as in most public initiatives, is marked by the selectivity of uses, the privilege of access and cultural marketing, proposal Luis Berríos-Negrón incorporates not only forgotten how to position ourselves in the uncomfortable position of rethinking stories that values civility, citizenship and community build today.
long-term lower-impact and energy-savings for the city and its citizens; and, a reconsideration of the agricultural history of the Brazilian Northeast entwined in its colonial, industrial, artistic and religious self.
With this, the Looming Greenhouse looks to 4th dimensional form 4 , not necessarily as social sculpture, but more as social pedestal, taking the unimaginable form of an abstract machine 5 that makes-visible 6 the pervasive fading of public space. This elusive visibility is then transformed by the nonobjective act: being before it, just to confuse it with something else through the visual modality of irrecognition 7 .
The irrecognition of the roof surface of the Teatro Castro Alves is to be a placeholder facilitated by the Pyramid (appropriating as ready-made the temporary, scaffold 8 structure of the Carnaval bleacher, or "arquibancada", or even its permanent crystallization, the Sambódromo) as an absence that encourages the memory of the precarity of public space. This precarity is one which Salvador is not exempt from, often through the obvious fencing-off and erasure of green spaces for real estate speculation and development [such as public parks and even religious, medicinal gardens (Terreiros, Candomblé)] 9 , but further exemplified by the recent unabated and controversial commercialization of the Carnaval itself, being used as an aggressive instrument of both branding and segregation (see Desocupa movement).
In a way it is, yes, an act to materialize the imperative call of Lina Bo Bardi to redefine Scientific Practice as an extension of Environmental Planning 9 . But, I echo that call to be reproduced outside of professionalist conventions and the technicalities of architecture and urban planning, leaning towards a collective body of activism to question and enrich the compositional stewardship beyond the anthropological itself. This is put forth in order to contest the forcing 11 of environmental activations suggested by the broader concept of "greenhouse" and climate radicalization 12 . These activations will hopefully yield a subversive science fiction (or fictional science as directly translated from Portuguese) that gives place, nourishes, lives and stores the projected, continuous tapestry as abstract surface that contests the human/natural incongruences of the anthropological machine as the vast and uninhabited roof of the Theatre 13 .
This collective image as mental tapestry, as continuous growth, dismantles the crystallization of power that holds, literally and metaphorically, the large extruded triangle that is the Theatre. It is its knife' s edge that cuts through the same residues of European geometric formalism at the crossroads of cultural, political, and economic discussions between the concretismo Paulistano and neoconcretismo Carioca, that the art of the Northeast certainly has often mediated, resisted, and/or contradicted, between the days of cubism, abstract art, and art construction through the Brazilian plastic revolution 14 , up until today.
For instance, one of the manifestations that confronted the colonial thrust of European modernism is the craft of weaving, where the Brazilian art of indigenous origin contrasts the geometricism of the Bauhaus, with tapestries by Bahian artists such as Genaro de Caravlho who shape and flow of form reinvents the neoconcrete expressionism through renditions of aspects, among others, of the Afro-Brazilean religion, Candomblé and Tropicália 15 .
With that spirit, the act proposes the loom and the greenhouse (p.30) as unrecognizable archetypes of collective memory, of a future natural history, where by walking up to the Pyramid the audience creates and nurtures their own common aspirations, not dependent on thinking in dualistic divisions, but for a compositional city of Northeastern constellations in rhythm and in disorder as environmental form, especially in contrast to neoliberal forms of rational growth, of social Darwinism 16 , actively annihilating the environment, promoting the idea of the greenhouse as ubiquitous tool of the future to solve the radicalization of global climate systems and technocratic, if totalitarian urban form.
In summary, the Looming Greenhouse for the 3rd Biennial of Bahia is an act that speculates upon weaving a nomadic image in motion 17 within the global game 18 , challenging the Platonic act of anthropological reason and the building of environment as particular aspects of the immaterial, of Tropicalism, Orientalism, links with Africa, the power of the testimony, and of naturalism.