Heriberto Gomes
(hegogart)
%201.png)
The exhibition in numbers
-
1 Artist
-
3 Museums
-
2 Cultural Interest Declarations (from the Presidency of the Republic of Costa Rica and the Ministry of Culture of Costa Rica)
-
+12 Months of Preparation
-
+1,200 Square Meters of Exhibition Space across the three locations
-
+47 Works (Paintings, Installations, Video Art)
-
+200 Hours of Setup
-
+20,000 Registered Visitors
-
+220 Days of Exhibition
-
6 Countries covered the news (Costa Rica, Mexico, Panama, Portugal, USA, and Venezuela)
-
+14 Media Outlets (CNN Español, Teletica, Repretel, Canal 13, La Nación, La República, RDP, eldiario.com, Jornal da Madeira, etc.)
-
+30 Reports, Articles, and Mentions
"Alzheimer: The Hidden Memories" is a powerful visual journey that humanizes the experience of Alzheimer’s, blending art and education to raise awareness and empathy. The exhibition reveals the emotional and cognitive impact of the disease through each artwork. It has been declared of cultural interest in Costa Rica and praised for its educational depth.
Based on a series of reflections on Alzheimer’s disease, memory deterioration, and its painful consequences, the project by artist Heriberto Gomes highlights troubling aspects of this condition—issues that have been widely studied by mental health sciences—only this time, it presents a unique perspective. Through art and its formal representations, Gomes probes the long-sought connection between the humanities and science under the premises of contextual art. ALZHEIMER, THE HIDDEN MEMORIES represents an innovative and essential aspect of the discursive construction of participatory artistic practice.
Addressing the topic of Alzheimer’s from the role of the artist in the social sphere and from a place of deep commitment, this aesthetic endeavor invites reflection on memory and forgetfulness. It not only opens doors and creates new meeting points within an inclusive context such as the museum—where art and science, two seemingly distant fields, can confront one another—but it also touches boundaries that raise particular and thought-provoking questions for both disciplines.
As Cristina Peri Rossi once said in The Integral Joy, “there are human matters we cannot understand without the crossing of disciplines,” and that “all scientific disciplines share an illusion: to understand reality. But so do the arts and humanities—they too hold the illusion of understanding reality: our desires, our conflicts, the relationships between people, their dreams, their obsessions.”
That is why it is just as important to discover the role of proteins in cancer as it is to contemplate The Wreck of Hope by Caspar D. Friedrich, read Kafka’s Letter to His Father, or listen to Bachiana No. 5 by Heitor Villa-Lobos.
The works presented in this exhibition take on varied artistic expressions—ranging from paintings and assemblages to photography, video, installations, and art actions, among other resources. This project seeks to explore new approaches to emotional processes as a subject of plastic inquiry. It delves into the loss of memory, the horror vacui as a concept of uncertainty, and does so through this suggestive curatorial path.
Heriberto Gomes invites us to wander through the different spaces of the museum, to strip ourselves of time and immerse into a kind of “fractal tempos”—to exist both inside and outside. He invites us to reflect by drawing closer to the existence of human beings whose frames of reference have changed due to neurological conditions and the effects of this complex illness. It is an attempt to understand existential relationships through the universe of abstraction, to portray them while guiding us toward an alternative system for understanding the world—one where the entangled threads, reminiscent of the neural connections in a deteriorated brain, do not bind our memories to preserve them, but instead unravel them, turning them into disconnected fragments of our lives and our families.
A kind of rupture appears in the fabric—holes that break through, signaling the transformation of those absent lives. They look elsewhere, in another direction: empty, invisible voids that dwell in our societies—the loss of memory.
Matilde Sánchez
espacioparaexhibirarte@gmail.com
My lucidity
In the inevitable and (for now) unstoppable progression of Alzheimer’s disease, disorientation can become one of the most distressing symptoms. That feeling of not knowing what is up or down, left or right, forward or backward, forces the individual to face moments in which the mind struggles to comprehend what is happening—trying to solve a riddle that was once effortlessly simple, but now consumes vast cognitive resources and mental energy.
The sensation of disorientation, combined with the inability to recognize one’s surroundings, creates deep despair. It can trigger sudden shifts in mood—from calm to aggressive, from smiling to frowning—changes that are often misunderstood by caregivers, who may feel these reactions lack a clear justification.
This simple maze, made with translucent fabrics, seeks to reflect those moments of being lost—experiences that, for the viewer (symbolizing the caregiver), may seem easy to navigate.
Senseless deterioration
The knowledge of an entire lifetime is affected by Alzheimer’s disease, eventually making it impossible to recall things, moments, or experiences that were once remembered with great clarity.
Books represent the knowledge accumulated throughout the life of a person with Alzheimer’s.
In this tower, the books at the bottom—with their spines facing outward—represent easily accessible knowledge. The books in the middle, with their spines turned inward, symbolize knowledge that still exists but is difficult to access; one no longer knows which book holds the information being sought. The books at the top, burnt, represent the knowledge that has already been lost.
A recurring trait among Alzheimer’s patients is that childhood memories are the last to fade, while recent memories are the first to disappear.
What's the solution?
Who's to blame?
Alzheimer’s disease has been studied since it was first identified, yet a cure remains elusive—and more troubling still, its exact cause is still unknown. What we have is a collection of theories and prescriptions, many of them supported more by anecdote than by science.
The handwritten texts on these sheets of paper represent the informal nature of the information that circulates at a popular level—an unfortunate reflection of how little we truly understand about the causes and possible solutions to this disease.
Dead files
Each day, the brain searches through its own archives—memories, experiences, and all kinds of essential information—to respond to the needs of a specific moment or situation.
In people with Alzheimer’s, the brain loses the ability to find those memories within an archive that has deteriorated—and, in some cases, been erased entirely.
That extraordinary organization the brain once held no longer exists. In its place, it leaves behind a dead archive.
My brain
As the days go by, the grass will dry out even if it's watered, because the conditions aren't ideal for it to remain alive during exposure. This is the same thing that happens in a brain with Alzheimer's.
The brain
In Alzheimer’s disease, there is a massive destruction of neurons in the cerebral cortex, leading to atrophy. Initially, specific areas are affected, but as the disease progresses, the damage spreads throughout the entire cortex.
In this installation, I use coaxial cable—used to transmit audio, video, and data—as a metaphor for the types of information processed by the brain. The shape is inspired by a brain in an advanced stage of Alzheimer’s. The disconnected cables represent the breakdown of connections between neurons.
Feelings
People with Alzheimer's can swing from one extreme to another for no apparent reason, from smiling to aggressive to fearful.
This is how I feel
...
Who are they? Who am I?
There comes a time when not only do they not recognize the people around them, but when they look in the mirror they do not recognize themselves either.
Alzheimer I
Representation of human chromosomes, the tilted boxes are those related to Alzheimer's
Where's my cell phone?
Where's my toothbrush?
Where are my glasses?
Where's my life?
...
Who are they? Who am I?
There comes a time when not only do they not recognize the people around them, but when they look in the mirror they do not recognize themselves either.