Curator Diego Chocano reflects on material agency, ancestral knowledge and the possibilities of reimagining public space through Delcy Morelos’ monumental earth installation at the Barbican.
28 July 2026
What happens when earth meets concrete? In Delcy Morelos’ ‘origo’, these materials entered into a conversation that extended far beyond form. Presented in the Barbican’s Sculpture Court, the installation brought ancestral Andean and Amazonian ways of understanding the earth into dialogue with the modernist architecture and utopian ideals of one of London’s most recognisable cultural landmarks.
Curator Diego Chocano considers ‘origo‘ as a living, changing environment rather than a static monument. Moving through questions of material agency, sensory experience, Indigenous knowledge, ecology and institutional responsibility, Chocano reflects on what it means to curate an artwork designed not to endure, but to transform.
At its centre is a broader question about how we understand community itself, and what becomes possible when the human is no longer assumed to be at its centre.
Suzette Bell-Roberts: ‘Origo’ combines ancestral Andean knowledge, contemporary sculpture, and one of Britain’s most famous postwar modernist buildings. What first got you thinking about the connection between Delcy Morelos’s work and the Barbican’s architecture?
Diego Chocano: The initial link I made was the prominence of two very different materials. Morelos uses earth as the subject and the material of her artworks; the Barbican is known for its cement architecture. I wondered what these two materials would say to each other, given the chance to dialogue and what we, as visitors, would hear.
Although earth and cement can be perceived as polar opposites—in terms of their composition but also their cultural associations and the histories embedded within them—I was not interested in framing this dialogue in such a binary way. As much as their divergences, I am interested in understanding where they converge—what the ‘organic’ can help you learn about the ‘inorganic’ and whether these rigid categories can be blurred.
This dynamic, in my opinion, is intrinsic to Morelos’ work. She combines modernist aesthetics with ancestral building techniques. This relationship between matter and form is not, in my opinion, intended to be solely juxtapositional—they are also in service of one another.
A lot has been said about Morelos’s use of earth as a material. Are there parts of her practice that you think are still not talked about enough, especially in European institutions?
Morelos’ artworks are spaces where visitors are confronted by the vibrancy and wonder of the earth, the material that makes life possible. This creates a potential risk for institutions to frame her work exclusively within the ambit of ‘wellness’; as a space where alienated, urban populations can reconnect with nature.
Throughout this process, I tried to not lose sight of the social and political significance of what Morelos was doing: installing a monumental, earthen structure inspired by the cosmovisions and architecture of the Andes and the Amazon in the financial centre of what was once the colonial capital of the world.
This installation lets visitors enter, rest, smell, and move through the work rather than just look at it. How does this change your idea of what a public sculpture can be in a city?
The Colombian artist Oswaldo Maciá describes Western culture as ‘ocular-centric’—it privileges sight above other senses.
In Morelos’ work, darkness is a key ingredient; sight is diminished. ‘Origo’ encourages you to use all your senses, which is quite unusual for a large-scale public art commission. The installation’s tunnels are dark, intimate and narrow. As much as sight, you rely on your sense of touch and proprioception.
Scent is also of particular importance. Whilst sight is often linked to reason, the olfactory sense is perceived by a part of our brain directly linked to memory and emotion. ‘origo’ was sprayed with a bespoke perfume and its soil was mixed with fragrant spices like cinnamon and cloves. It is a public sculpture that is designed to be experienced and felt, not just seen.
Another paradigm-shifting characteristic of origo is its ephemerality. It is made of humble materials. It was not built to last. Throughout the run of the exhibition, chunks of soil have fallen off, its colour has changed, its shape has morphed. When speaking about this with Morelos, she said, ‘Humans do not live forever; why should this artwork?’
Although this is certainly not always the case, I associate public art with monumentality, robustness and durability. We wanted to make something different.
‘Origo‘ is in the Sculpture Court for the first time in ten years, bringing new life to a space designed to make art part of daily life at the Barbican. How did this history shape your approach to curating the show?
It was very special to reactivate the space with an artwork that exists somewhere between architecture, installation and sculpture. The Barbican, a venue that is host to multiple art forms, is interdisciplinary by its very nature. I hope the Sculpture Court can continue to host artworks that push the boundaries of discipline and form.
In Morelos’s work, earth is both a material and a living presence. How has working closely with her practice changed the way you think about curating and the links among art, institutions, and ecology?
Working with Morelos and with earth has cemented my understanding that matter has its own agency. In the museum world, we are often fixated on conserving and preserving artworks, controlling how you want a commission or an exhibition to be perceived. To understand that this artwork is alive is to understand that it is mutable. To understand that it is mutable is to accept that, as a curator or as an institution, you will not have complete control over the final outcome.
This project connects different ideas of community, from the Barbican’s postwar social goals to Morelos’s view of life as deeply connected beyond just humans. How do you see these ideas interacting in the installation?
The Barbican was conceived as a utopian living project in which arts and culture are, quite literally, at the centre of everyday life. It is emblematic of the civic-minded idealism that emerged in Europe in response to the horrors of World War II.
Throughout the estate, green spaces are integrated with the purpose of counterbalancing the weightiness of the concrete architecture. In this way of seeing the world, nature primarily exists to serve the human experience; nature and culture are perceived as separate. I think origo demonstrates admiration and respect for the Barbican and the ideas that underpin it, but it is also interested in probing this humanist notion of ‘utopia.’
The installation allows visitors to experience the agentic power of the earth and to consider the porosity of the human body, encouraging us to expand our idea of ‘community’ to a more capacious one—one that encompasses other earth-beings.
At the centre of the installation is an oval courtyard designed for convening, rest and play—for community. Throughout the installation, we saw this space inhabited by foxes, birds, humans, plants and the soil itself.
Today, more institutions are working with Indigenous and ancestral knowledge. What responsibilities do curators have when showing work based on living worldviews, not just the history of contemporary art?
Today, more institutions are working with Indigenous and ancestral knowledge. What responsibilities do curators have when showing work based on living worldviews, not just the history of contemporary art?
To work with anyone from a culture different to yours requires, to differing degrees, acts of translation. Translation is always an approximation and is therefore a creative act, one that generates new discourse.
I think it is important to be aware of where the power in these exchanges inherently lies; where this new discourse is being enunciated from. Curator Pablo José Ramírez notes that it is often the Western subject that claims the right to translate and explain. He asks, ‘How do we make translation a space of political agency and not of loss?’ I cannot speak for all curators, but finding the answer to this question feels like my duty.
Thinking beyond ‘Origo’, what discussions do you hope this commission will spark at the Barbican and in the wider art world about materials, public spaces, and our connection to the earth?
In the art world, I hope it can bring about greater conversations around sustainability and circular practices. All the wood that was used for the installation is being reused, and all the soil from Morelos’ work either returns to where it came from or gets repurposed. In our case, it is being turned into ‘strocks’—building blocks resembling bricks that are made of straw, clay and earth. They will be used for sustainable building projects in future.
This installation was on view in the Sculpture Court at the Barbican in London, from 15 May 2026 until 31 July 2026.
