“Mayombe—bombe—mayombé.” The African incantation of Nicolás Guillén still resonates in the dense air of the Island, that same air that will seep in on May 6, at 4:00 in the afternoon, through the doors of the Wifredo Lam Gallery, in Marianao. 

"Sensemayá," a poem-song, a poem-drum, a poem-snake that undulates and twists with a deep, Creole rhythm, will be the heartbeat that inaugurates Entre nosotros , a collective exhibition at the Marianao art gallery, which does not come to lament absences, but to celebrate presences that refuse to fade away.

Because that is what this exhibition is about: to summon, from the silent music of the wood and the lively roar of the dance, the memory of Julio Alfonso Núñez, a young cabinetmaker, member of the Cuban Association of Artisan Artists, ACAA, who left too soon, but left his hands imprinted in every grain, in every assembly, in every piece of furniture that was in reality a silent poem. 

Twenty artists from Marianao and other municipalities —students, photographers, ceramists, sculptors, artisans— come together to build a bridge of 28 works where painting, photography, ceramics and wood sculpture intertwine like the songs in a guaguancó. 

But the intimate heartbeat of the room throbs from two pieces that are not simple furniture: a table and a small display case that came from the hands of Julio, verses of mahogany where the craft became art and art, memory.

The opening will be a ritual uniting all forms of expression. Adeline Alfonso Villanueva, daughter of the late artist, will recite “Brindis,” a poem by José Ángel Buesa. Then, from the Prodanza Dance Promotion Center, under the direction of Laura Alonso Martínez, three dancers will embody what Guillén put into words: “Sensemayá.” 

It will unfold in all its telluric force, with the serpent of myth made muscle and sweat. And right after, like a calm respite, the musical piece "Ne me quitte pas" will transform the incantation into a loving plea, because there is no ritual without love, nor memory without tenderness.

Thus, with the echo of Guillén's African poem still vibrating among the walls, Entre nosotros will open its doors to the public, not as just any exhibition, but as an act of faith in art and will remain until June 30, time to discover that Julio Alfonso Núñez has not left: he is still there, among us, making furniture for the soul.