Zielinsky Barcelona is pleased to present Duplicar y repetir [Duplicate and Repeat], a group exhibition featuring works by Cisco Merel, Cybèle Varela, Lotty Rosenfeld, Robert Llimós, Valdirlei Dias Nunes, and Vera Chaves Barcellos. Repetition, doubling, cloning, and mirroring articulate the exhibition, which spans more than fifty years, from Estudi per Espai Ple III (1970) by Robert Llimós to Mirador (2026) by Cisco Merel. More than a formal reiteration, repetition emerges here as a mechanism capable of producing difference.
Beginning with the conceptual gesture of repeating elements in order to generate tension within the scene, Vera Chaves Barcellos (1938, Porto Alegre, Brazil) presents an artist’s book composed of a sequence of seven identical photographic prints. Two images coexist within them: the platform of a subway station, with its curves and lights, and the interior of a carriage, with its seats and passengers. The only element that visibly changes is the count of the days, from the first to the seventh. Nothing happens, nothing alters the scene; everything remains suspended in continuous repetition.
In musical notation, Da Capo / D.C. is a common instruction in Baroque music directing the performer to return to the beginning of a piece and play it again. In Chaves Barcellos’ work, however, repetition ceases to be an instruction and becomes a way of measuring time. Each image is identical to the previous one, yet the succession of days introduces a minimal and irreversible difference. Repetition constitutes one of the central procedures in Chaves Barcellos’ practice, a strategy shared by many Conceptual artists of the 1960s and 1970s.
Also by Chaves Barcellos, the exhibition includes the photographic series O Grito (The Scream), produced between 2004 and 2009. The work consists of captured facial expressions taken from printed and televised media, where the cries—of excitement, pain, or joy—of athletes resonate silently in our minds.
Cisco Merel (1981, Panama City, Panama) draws on vernacular architectural forms to construct a series of domestic devices. Mirador (2026), originally conceived for his solo exhibition at Kunsthalle Lissabon, is now presented in Barcelona, occupying the central space of the gallery. The painting-sculpture—a window that opens onto itself—is built as a mirror image: its colours are inverted and continuously confront one another. Two planes open completely until the distinction between inside and outside disappears.
The constructive method behind these works stems from the Panamanian term La Chantin. As stated in the exhibition text at Kunsthalle Lissabon: “The term travelled with the Afro-Antillean diaspora during the construction of the Panama Canal, giving its name to an architecture of urgency and resistance: wooden houses raised above the ground to respond to the tropical humidity and, above all, conceived to be dismantled. These structures could be taken apart, relocated, and expanded according to the needs of families and communities”. Within this context, repeating a model never means producing a copy. The house, the window, or the shelter expands, contracts, and transforms according to the conditions of each place. Repetition produces variations: each new version incorporates the memory, the needs, and the circumstances of a different context.
Also engaging with the imaginary occupation of space is Untitled (2 Golden Bars) (2022) by Valdirlei Dias Nunes (1969, Bom Sucesso, Brazil). Two golden forms are repeated against a black background that emphasizes the elements traversing the scene. Can we truly affirm, merely by looking, that both bars have exactly the same dimensions? Or is it that, by focusing our attention on a minimal difference, we begin to perceive variations that had previously gone unnoticed?
Over more than three decades of artistic production, Dias Nunes has developed a language marked by precise and restrained gestures, in which geometry and emptiness remain in constant tension. His paintings seek a delicate balance between seemingly rigid structures and the subtlety of the gesture. At first glance, these elements appear as abstract forms, but they soon reveal their true nature—stretchers, boxes, grilles, or containers. Delicate geometric configurations have their rhythm interrupted by objects that cut across, fall into, emerge from, or pierce the scene, reorganising the viewer’s gaze. Perhaps repetition depends less on the object than on the person observing it. The longer we remain before two seemingly identical forms, the more difficult it becomes to sustain the idea of absolute identity.
Formally similar, although produced in entirely different ways and fifty-six years apart, the works of Dias Nunes and Robert Llimós (1943, Barcelona, Spain) converge through gesture: diagonal lines. While Dias Nunes pursues the precision of form, Llimós explores its opposite in Estudi per Espai Ple III (1970). Between 1970 and 1973, Llimós carried out a series of investigations centred on the repetition of the line and the geometric organisation of the surface. Through superimposed lines and repeated calligraphic gestures, these works reduce visual language to its essential elements. The line expands until it occupies the entire sheet of paper, becoming the axis of the composition. Detached from any representational intention, the image asserts itself as an exercise in rhythm, structure, gesture, and repetition.
A strange figure watches us. It remains on the lookout, seeing and being seen. It peers out from behind a painting of a blue sky. Cybèle Varela (1943, Petrópolis, Brazil) stands behind the work, both as the artist who executes the painting and as the figure returning our gaze. In Cybèle (2001), multiple doubles coexist: the self-portrait occupies one half of the painting, while the other reproduces one of the artist’s earlier works. Created as part of a body of work developed between 1997 and 2001, the painting belongs to a period in which Varela began depicting herself in different positions, oscillating between the representation of herself as an individual and as an artist. In paintings, photographs, and videos, she frequently appears with her face covered in red paint or wearing masks, establishing a play between identity, performance, and representation. The self-portrait thus ceases to be an exercise in self-recognition and becomes a space of doubling. The double no longer reflects a stable identity; it stages it, displaces it, and renders it uncertain.
Finally, the exhibition brings together two versions of Untitled (1999) by Lotty Rosenfeld (1943, Santiago, Chile), belonging to a little-known series by the artist. As a curatorial gesture, two nearly identical works have been brought together. The series addresses reproducibility on different levels: it takes as its point of departure Dolly the sheep and Bonnie, her first naturally conceived offspring, born one year after the cloning; it unfolds through silkscreen, a technique historically associated with multiple reproduction; and it appropriates the front page of a newspaper, a medium whose very nature depends on the mass circulation of images and information.
The case of Dolly was widely disseminated by the media from the late 1990s onwards, quickly becoming a symbol of both the possibilities and the anxieties associated with cloning. Yet, although every element of the work points towards reproduction, Rosenfeld chooses to produce unique editions, intervening in each print with elements external to the central image, such as the figure of a saint or numbers referring to the frame counter of a film. By renouncing the multiplication inherent to silkscreen, she introduces an interruption into the reproductive logic that runs throughout the work. The sequence comes to a halt. Reproduction is suspended. Between clones, newspapers, silkscreens, unique editions, and Arthur Rimbaud’s celebrated phrase, “I is another,” the work multiplies the idea of reproducibility on yet other levels. The double ceases to be a copy and acquires an existence of its own.