In the International Year of the Potato, the Peruvian government –ancestral cradle of the culture that over 3500 years ago domesticated the native tubercle- changed locally that name for the one of Year of the World Summits (as homage to the political conclaves).

This offering was thus conceived as an irony (the inventory of the 18th century accounts for the imperial trade between Spain and its colonies) but above all, as a symbolic redress: they’re dead potatoes the ones that nevertheless germinate upon that document, breaking up the gold-plated and the silver-plated that asphyxiates them. And the entire room is, at the same time, with a carpet of white murrayas plants, potatoes dehydrated through ancestral techniques and brought to the capital from the true, high peaks, the apus, the tutelary mountains of the Andes.

The great laboratory of life for humankind.