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• NOWHERE

  BY NICOLA FORNONI

  An abandoned NATO base built during the Cold War on a mountain pass linking three valleys to each other in north Italy. Old business lines, passageways and other morphological peculiarities. Sound waves, cymbal vibrations and fake animal puppies mark an imaginary sense of the time passing. The landscapes around take on ascetic and fleeting colours. Those zones that were once controlled from now on are a way out. The senses conjugate an escape trajectory from the body to the sky. The video consists of three chapters. Each of them begins with a description of emotions. The story develops through symbols concerning identity, presence, existence and condition. Documentary scenes alternate with anatomical frames. Keeping direction straight on, the protagonist discovers new territories—nowhere is everywhere. He trespasses and tracks them down with his orthopaedic devices, migrating from a tunnel’s darkness to the light, like a miner who reaches the surface after spending endless moments in the depths of the earth where the rumble of metal makes its way through the rocks.
• YOUR WOUNDS BLEED ME تمہارے زخموں سے میرا خون

  BY PRIIYA PRETHORA

  The last walk to a melting glacier and the rituals of walking the moist ground it reveals by leaving. Things to carry with oneself on wounded paths and singing to the ancient frozen imprints disappearing into the memory of algal blooms sprouting in the warm seas. A journey on foot, connecting homes across the nomadic landscapes of borrowed belonging. A body alive, in the haunts of breaking ice.
• Typo3

  BY Francesca Fini

  “The action begins with co-performer Inanna taking my blood, in front of a white table with an old Olivetti typewriter. She pours my blood into a glass cup, and there we dip a six-meter-long white satin ribbon, till it’s completely soaked in blood. Then we stretch the ribbon across the performative space and use a golden hair dryer to dry the ribbon a bit. Immediately, the space gets marked by thin blood trails that intersect on the floor, almost creating a map of our movements through the room. Then I open the typewriter and replace the old ink ribbon with the new one full of my own blood. I sit in front of the Olivetti and start hitting the keys. Without thinking, I write short surreal sentences that come spontaneously to my mind at that precise moment. When I finish writing, Inanna takes the paper sheets and attacks them to the almost invisible white wires hanging from the ceiling. The last sentence I write is ‘Ofelia Non-Annega’ (Ophelia does not drown), in a celebration of female resilience against the romantic depiction of self-destructive female heroism. The action is repeated from the very beginning for about six hours until the view of the performance space is completely covered.”