Viewed from an oblique overhead angle, a dense array of monolithic concrete partitions stretches across the plane in irregular tiers, their surfaces mottled with erosion and veined shadows that carve out dead-end passages, sporadically broken by subtle lavender voids hinting at absent vitality beneath the oppressive uniformity.

The setup reconfigures the notion of a "garden" as a petrified parody of cultivation, where brutalist relics supplant organic growth, channeling the sterility of mid-century socialist megastructures into a visual dead-end that mocks promises of equitable habitat.

Drawing from Soviet labyrinthine housing blocks and the abstract, uninhabitable grandeur of Yugoslav Spomenik memorials, Los Carpinteros (Marco Castillo and Dagoberto Rodríguez) in the Jardín de Concreto series elevate concrete from utilitarian backbone to ironic ornamentation—crafting monumental pretenses of livability that expose ideological rigidity's failure to nurture, instead yielding doctrinaire mazes that enclose personal realms in a fruitless spectacle of control and decay.