Ela Frost

Discovered near Sesimbra, this damaged tiled surface covered an old pillar standing rather quietly beside the road to Cabo Espichel. Easy to pass without a second glance. Fortunately, we didn’t.

Tiny square tiles, cracked glazes, exposed cement, faded pigments and missing fragments had slowly turned this once functional object into something somewhere between ruin and abstraction. Almost archaeological. Almost modernist.

Soft whites, oxidised blues, dusty pinks, tobacco browns, faded golds and traces of black create a palette that feels sunburnt by time itself. Some tiles remain almost intact. Others have already dissolved into texture, dust and memory.

The original grid still tries to keep everything in order, while years of sun, wind and salt air have clearly had other plans. Cracks cut through the surface, colours fade into one another and empty spaces interrupt the rhythm unpredictably.

Nothing here was designed to become more beautiful while deteriorating. Yet somehow, standing alone in the Portuguese landscape, this forgotten little pillar did exactly that.

On textile, the fractured grid and weathered pigments created remarkable softness and depth. Geometry losing control gracefully.

Fortunately, nobody replaced the tiles too early.