For most, traces of use or damage mean incompleteness, something imperfect, unfinished. But what if they could mean presence? For Elisa Bo, these marks hold emotive power. Her art is not meant to be beautiful, but a search for harmony. As a child, she would stand for hours before the patinated walls of Provence, observing their cracks, their cuts, their peeling layers. Their accidental abstraction became a lifelong fascination.

Through her work, Elisa Bo opens a dialogue between art and architectural materiality, as if a fragment of a time-worn wall had been isolated and framed for contemplation. Layer after layer, she transforms a medium once meant to build into textured monochromes, guiding it to a point of tension between abstraction and incompleteness.

Reminiscent of the time-worn corridors of Italian convents and palaces, Elisa Bo works unfold like meditative passages, places where contemplation and matter meet.