ESP / EN
Amparo Molar:
Sustained Fragility
My practice began when I started collecting wild flowers from the hills of Córdoba, which is where I grew up, and where my parents live.. At first, I made very simple floral arrangements, focusing on flowers that had a fragrance. Then, I began exploring how to make a fragrance, and worked with extraction processes until I got to distillation.
What does fragility mean to you? Is it a material condition, a perception, or a way of relating to objects?
I believe fragility is a condition, and that which enables volatility. At different stages of the process, many factors have to come together for that to occur. Whether it's during gathering, distillation, or diffusion.
How does volatility work?
I can give you an example. When a wild material is highly volatile, it means that it has reached the right moment for gathering. However, sometimes this does not happen according to the biodynamic calendar in any logical or predictable way. It depends on the perception of the person gathering it and their relationship with the material. There is a moment when, by observing and through experience, you realise that the plant is ready to be gathered.
The same applies during distillation. You realise that the plant is highly volatile because, if the temperature rises too high, it burns. Measuring and responding to that volatility is the most delicate moment. That is why volatility becomes a condition for everything.
And that is fragility?
I believe so.
How do you create a piece capable of conveying lightness without losing consistency or presence?
It begins with the initial decision to prioritise the sensory interaction that the piece produces within the space. I think everything else is a support that accompanies it and allows that system to exist.
Does that define every piece you design?
Yes.
What role do experimentation, mistakes and observation play in the development of your work?
They are the foundation of my work. In Argentina, there are no professional training programmes for what I do. So the experiments - whether involving formulas, gathering, distillation, or application within the system - take longer. This is the foundation of my practice. Every change introduces a new variable that has to be formally recorded in an experiment. That is my method. The experiment is the translation of trial and error into something more concrete.
Do all those notebooks, all those notes you make throughout your processes, help you to gradually unravel and make sense of things?
That is the record of the traceability system, which allows me to determine, over time, whether a plant can become part of a formula. Some plants do not have a traceability system, which means that their yield can vary and does not always depend on the same working conditions. When that happens, I have to decide whether to continue working with the plant.
Trial and error are essential to this process. The plants I distill are not commonly used in fine perfumery; they are more closely associated with botanical perfumery, which is still a relatively new field. For example, the frankincense I work with is a South American species, very different from the frankincense traditionally used in perfumery. Because there is no established traceability system, experimentation, trial and error, and sketching become inevitable. Through this process, I gradually understand whether a plant can become a material that I can work with.
When does a technical limitation become an expressive possibility?
All the time. I think the diffusors are the answer to that question. When I first began distilling, I realised that the courses on essential oils and resins were very limited because there is no industry here. It is very difficult for a single artisan to produce a product beyond the raw material. That limitation made me think about formulas that were purer, more traditional, and that would preserve the essence of the distillate without altering it too much. The idea of the diffusers came to me, because they require a very low molecular weight, and oils are ideal for that. That is where I chose to work.
This relates to the idea of balance, and how you work between delicacy, stability and permanence. Particularly this last idea: permanence.
Yes. It has to do with the technique I use. Steam distillation is the cleanest extraction technique on an artisanal scale because it only uses steam to extract the compound. That is what defines the more subtle and softer profile I work with. For the formula to be stable and long-lasting, there has to be a balance. That’s when I work with higher molecular weights, but only when necessary. I try to emphasise the delicacy of the steam-distilled formula.
What materials, techniques or scales are you interested in incorporating into your upcoming research?
I am starting to weld myself. I would like to become more involved in the manual work with aluminium or steel, and would also like to increase the scale a little, as well as to work with more glass. Since the diffusors are, in a way, an offshoot of the machines I use for distillation, I would like to continue exploring that relationship.
What did your practice find in the Kavanagh building that gave rise to the proposal developed for this project?
What was most exciting - when I began researching how to represent Corina’s fragrance - was when I came across the sketch of a house against some mountains. Beneath it was a caption that read A retreat on the banks of the San Roque River, in Córdoba. It was the house built by Gustavo Casares. That’s when I saw in which direction the perfume had to go. I went to the house and realised that I had already been there, and that I could work with the idea of ‘court perfumery’, where commissions were made according to the plants found in a person’s garden.
It was also very exciting to think that those are the same trees I grew up with, and the same trees that I distill today. I think that was what allowed me to connect with the project from a more personal perspective, in addition to this reminiscence of the classical ways in which perfumes were commissioned.
The development was a long and challenging process, because it not only contains those elements, but also references the flowers on the fourteenth floor and the building itself, with more contemporary gestures that refer to the era it was built in.
11/08/2026
11:30 HRS
Photo credits:
Emma Livingston
Born in 1995, Córdoba, Argentina. Hand gathering and steam distillation. Research and development of scented pieces, diffusion devices and botanical perfumery. Founder and director of La Lágrima, a project established in 2020.