” (…) Let’s enter this play as if we are opening a fan of images in motion that they themselves prey our gestures, our anxieties and fears, images that capture in us what we have of the everyday at a certain moment, we all come to a point of logical sufficiency for which we enter in an unfathomable or the illusion. (…) Isabel Barros’s scarlet wall which builds portraits, beats, blood runs in it as a vein and imagines life because it is a wall inside the body, inside its head. She is the projection and screen of a film made up of forward and backward motions in which somebody is looking for him/herself and at times finds him/herself. (…) This Isabel Barros’s work is of an immediately intense beauty, gashing made up of spontaneity worthy of envy, built on the most cleaver perception of the freedom of its performer who clearly is able to grow inside the plot finding its own comfort. (…)”


Valter Hugo Mãe