Fricción focuses on that which exists outside the visual field. In this case, it is a pair of hands. In the scene that we watch, the artist himself is pushed by these hands, over and over again, as he continuously returns to the starting point.

A man, Xoán Anleo, is expelled from his  situation. A pair of hands push him to the margins of the screen. The ineludible race to avoid the crash is halted by the constant need to return to the starting point. It is as if we were watching a man addicted to being pushed around, as the same situation is repeated from different angles. The violence in the push varies, but the man always returns for more. He is subordinated and  coldly observed. As if in a sacrificing trance, the object body is subjected by the hidden power that the pair of hands hold over him. The relational identities of each of the participants in this trio, the object, the manipulator and the observer, are forged without  any kind of communication between them. Any type of particular sentiment of identity has been cast aside. Each individual in the video exists according to its function and correspondence towards the other. The irritation and disquiet that these images effect are mitigated by an affective distance, itself strengthened by an interior atmosphere within which this loop of aggression, bland like an everyday thing, is created, by the slow pace of the action and by the opaque sound of steps. The only rupture in this minimalist situation is that of continuity and of the change of frame which gives the action a greater temporal dimension. This constant action, passively observed by the video, recalls, among other referents of video performance, the time and space defining performances of Bruce Nauman, or the micro video-performances of the austrian artist Edwin Wurm. Fricción stands out for the role that the artist takes up in it, as a passive element that is activated from the outside, and for his relationship to the camera whilst it defyingly stares at him.