/ OBLIVION EXODUS /
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Tuesday 25 july 2023, 19:00h - 20:00h
Centre d'Arts Santa Mònica. Barcelona.
VOID OBLIVION
Anònim, 10 minuts.Drift and loss. Absurd escapes in times of emergency.
FROM BEIRUT TO... THOSE WHO LOVE US
Electronic Lebanon, 2006, 5 minutes.Video letters from Beirut to the World. July 21, 2006.
Calling outside Lebanon, the bombings in 2006.CRYING SUN
Zarema Mukusheva, 2007, 25 minutes.People from the Chechen mountainous village of Zumsoy, the struggle to preserve their cultural identity and traditions in the context of military raids and enforced disappearances by the federal army, attacks by guerilla fighters, and subsequent displacement. By helping to articulate the voices of Zumsoy villagers in the public and policy spheres, the video calls on local and federal authorities to end impunity for human rights violations and to restore policies for the return of mountain villagers to their ancestral homes.
VOID AXIOME
Observatori de Video No Identificat-Desorg punt Org, 10 minuts, 2023.Brief passage through the events that took place between 2013 and the beginning of 2014 in Independence Square in Kyiv. Oblivion, present and the unknown.
LAST NIGHT DIKR
Abu Ali, 2005, 7 minutes.The search for water, the descent into the well of the heart.
Нохчийчоь
Ки́їв 2013 - 2014
Ки́їв 2022
Last night
"Most likely, sooner or later we will find ourselves in an apparently dry and arid place. Unexpectedly our steps have left us there, all paths are possible, but none seem to lead anywhere. In our solitude we find the only company of contemplation, the quiet gaze shows us a quiet world, a world that slowly begins to show itself outside the parameters of desire or functionality, a world without outside or in. We understand better now that what we see is not foreign to us and The trip thus takes on a different and interpretative meaning. A small group of men appears in the distance, we approach and follow them. One of them is a dowser, looking for water with an olive branch, the step is fast, suddenly as if receiving a blow staggers, and maybe it falls, we fall...
In the moor a dry bush has opened some small flowers, our steps now take a path of dust, stones, brambles and acacias, crossing doors and murmurs, rumors or children's laughter...
Lying on the ground, like dirt, so that a well opens in our chest and consciousness descends close to the heart, there we will see without words, with the sounds of breathing, a memory of the place where we came from, the place we are. , from where appearances sprout, like those clouds that form whimsical figures that barely last... A search for what is of life in us. The presence of what makes us live."
"Other times one intuits the fossilization of that impulse in a series of empty norms of its inner meaning. The forms are then amplified and exhibited, the names become bombastic, the typical rigidity of the dead appears, the sweetness of the life disappears. direct experience, and quickly structures and circles of power are created that hijack that spiritual “ask.” Vainly, everything must be said.
There is always a tension that is a symptom of life, that game between contraction and expansion. The inner fruit of the almond requires the outer hardness of a shell to protect it. But we are not satisfied with a shell if it is empty, it is rigid, difficult to swallow without the aroma of its living source. That shell that does not open kills the fruit, it must open for the seed to grow and give rise to life. They're not two different things."