In her journey into the depths of the natural world, Lucila Gradín gathers substances that suggest other ways of understanding what surrounds us. Rather than the beautiful and perfect shapes of fruits, leaves, and flowers, she brings us the dyes yielded by their maceration. Rather than the astoni- shing colors that lie on surface of the forest or the meadow, she dwells on the muted—even invisible—tones that constitute life somewhere where the human eye is not looking. Ombú, Ceibo, Timbó, Palo borracho, Chañar, and Aguaribay—six trees native to this part of the planet that provide Gradín with a repertoire of pig- ments, their properties the stuff she has delighted in researching for years. In her words, and in her works, “medicinal uses, coloring capacity, and shamanic powers” come together. Engrossed in the minutiae of processes regulated by the pace of the species she works with, the artist-alchemist spends long hours in her studio exploring those intersecting qualities. Whether on the pieces of felt and wool on which she intervenes or on the walls-cum-canvas of the museum itself, the vegetable colors provide an oppor- tunity for rediscovery. The texts written by Gradín herself draw on ancestral myths and grandmother wisdom to stir up healing energies and guide rituals. The intervention is a chromatic celebration, but also a call for introspection. In the slivers of Nature that reign over the gallery, trees work their warm magic, their vast power unfurled.