Fenochio, who has lived and worked in La Boca for over three decades, paints from within the communities she depicts. Her subjects (neighbors, friends, and fellow artists) are never anonymous. Their presence is rendered with a painterly tenderness that resists voyeurism. As Longoni notes, Fenochio’s portraits begin with the eyes, which "shine and crash against the viewer," initiating a dialogue that unfolds across the canvas without preparatory sketches.

The exhibition’s centerpiece is a series of monumental canvases previously displayed on the Nicolás Avellaneda transporter bridge, connecting La Boca and Isla Maciel. Originally intended for a brief outdoor showing, the works remained in place for nearly two years, exposed to the elements and passersby's gaze. This act underscores Fenochio’s commitment to art as a public, participatory gesture, an extension of her long-standing engagement with political art collectives like Etcétera and collaborations with León Ferrari.

The paintings themselves are dense with atmosphere: dogs prowl alongside sleeping figures; bodies huddle beneath makeshift shelters; light flickers from unseen sources. Fenochio’s palette is dark yet vibrant, capturing the eerie beauty of nocturnal Buenos Aires. Her compositions, often constructed from memory and imagination, eschew linear perspective in favor of emotional truth. These are not documentary images but "fictions of the real," as Cristina Civale aptly describes them.

Also on view is "Naipas," a feminist card deck conceived during a hospital vigil in 2016 and printed for the first time for this exhibition. The deck extends Fenochio’s practice into the realm of participatory object-making, inviting viewers to engage with her work beyond the canvas.

"Ahora" situates Fenochio within a lineage of socially engaged Argentine painters, from Antonio Berni to Marcia Schvartz, while asserting her singular voice. Her work is a testament to the power of painting to bear witness, to dignify, and to disturb. In a world increasingly desensitized to suffering, Fenochio insists on seeing and on making us see.

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