Spaces of identity, memory and fiction
Curated by Paula Mulatti
A lion sits back on the couch, the cat spends an afternoon in rural therapy, a canary attends the counter of an empty office, and a leopard has gotten lost while the sheep sleep on the sofa. The heron is landing at another afternoon back home. There is a six-story building, each inhabitant nostalgic for their sunsets. However, at sunrise the taxonomist is proud, long time ago the Scotswoman found the ideal place, while the grandmother finished the proposed work for winter. A primary school teacher finally retires, while the cake is baking along with the family memories. In another landscape, the winter sun has appeared and there is someone that has sheltered an accomplice dream. The hanging sheets have proposed a new landscape, the houses along the road whisper thousands of stories, nothing like the smell of water on the first dip of the season that could only be accessed thanks to the silent travel ships. The illusion is maintained like a dance on New Year’s Eve.
Fiction enters the memory hole.
Curated by Gal Wachs
Our interior, our entrails, have their own lives, they move on their own. and the microorganisms that inhabit them, and the spasmodic movements of the intestines, help us to ensure that everything works perfectly, that everything is under control. But, let's make an ellipsis, what happens if we skip that control? In English, "gut reactions" is an expression that defines those instinctive reactions that we do without thinking. Like when we were little we took the pencils and started drawing silhouettes or, in the absence of brushes, we painted shapes with paint on our little fingers. Let's go back to that age, to that state of mind in which we blurred the rules and experimented without control, letting ourselves be carried away on the highway of creativity. Just as Rima Virbauskaite does when she mixes cyanotypes with pinhole photographs and then develops them with caffein. As well as Yago Soria letting memories transmute, Selene LaMarca, pouring wax in her chemigramas or Elizabeth Ransom mixing the permanence of photography to compare it with the non-belonging of the migrant through soil chromatography. Let's stop following the rules and follow our instincts more. Surely the results will surprise us.
Curated by Astrid Jacomme
What if our civilization was about to collapse? Not in centuries, but in the next few years, during our lifetime. It is not about being apocalyptic, but simply the result of holistic observations, studies and reports from a vast community of scientists, experts and institutions. Society as we know it today, based on capitalism, fossil fuels, the frenetic consumption of goods and the depletion of natural resources, is collapsing at breakneck speed. Collapsology is the transdisciplinary study of the risk of collapse of our contemporary, industrial and globalized societies through economic, social and environmental crises such as the one we are facing. Today's utopia may not be about living in a perfect world, but about believing that we will continue to live in this false state of well-being. Collapsography is our contribution to the debate: a photographic tool to highlight the problems we have to solve, from climate change to social problems such as gentrification, biodiversity loss or environmental pollution. Experimental photography has a powerful voice to advocate that we all need to fight for change, to protect the ingenious beauty of nature, and above all, put faith in acting as one community with hope and resilience.