no. 23 Editorial
Moodboard

ISSN · 2183-5527

Visual Essay + Author in residence

7 Portraits

7 Portraits

João Fonte Santa

VHS, 29' By João Fonte Santa, assisted by António Caramelo The video Sete Retratos was created for the exhibition Mundo de Aventuras, curated by José Alberto Ferreira, and features 7 video portraits, …

7 Portraits

B, Y, R

Visual Essay

B, Y, R

Henrique Biatto

Água Viva

Visual Essay

Água Viva

Lander Patrick, Gonçalo Marques, José Soares

Through the longest path

Visual Essay

Through the longest path

Margarida Rodrigues (MAR)

Working with mountains is easy

Article

Working with mountains is easy

Isadora Alves

Process Of Unframability

Sound Essay

Process Of Unframability

Frantz Loriot

Drowned, in the shame of light

Visual Essay

Drowned, in the shame of light

Isabela Abate & João Castro

Workbook on the adaptation of the play The Man Outside (1947)

Visual Essay

Workbook on the adaptation of the play The Man Outside (1947)

Pedro Paiva

Sightings

Visual Essay

Sightings

Francisco Novais

HALF A STEP FROM HOME

Visual Essay

HALF A STEP FROM HOME

António Olaio

Misfits

Visual Essay

Misfits

Fabrizio Matos

Out Of Here

Sound Essay

Out Of Here

Quatroconnection (Carla Santana)

Weiße Rose

Visual Essay + Author in residence

Weiße Rose

João Fonte Santa

it was just drained, drained

Sound Essay

it was just drained, drained

André Hencleeday

Lavagem

Visual Essay

Lavagem

João Jacinto

XXX

Visual Essay + Author in residence

XXX

João Fonte Santa

The hand with no specialty

Visual Essay

The hand with no specialty

Carolina Lino

Wrong Wrong n.23

Misfits

Visual Essay 05.05.2020

The Trace of my Face

Nuno Miguel Proença

Sem título, fotografia, Paris, 2016.

Sem título, fotografia, Paris, 2018.

Sem título, fotografia, Lisboa, 2017.

Sem título, fotografia, Lisboa, 2018.

Sem título, fotografia, Lisboa, 2018.

Sem título, fotografia, Veneza, 2019.

Sem título, fotografia, Lisboa, 2017.

It is more less so: I have almost nothing to add, except, perhaps, a cut in the endless movement. Of my face, what's left? A trace, beyond the mirror. The origin of the image, it seems, from the circumstances of the body. There’s been talk about ruins. Here we could speak of traces, which are remnants of pure chance in a decomposition of compositions. It is the destiny of works, they say, beyond that which may never be erased. In addition, there is some enjoyment, a delight in the colours, the shapes, in me. Creating shades in the perpetual tearing of the light, giving discreet outlines to the continuous fading of the senses. I can add the obvious, after all. It is already something: appearing in the disappearing, like in singularity or memory, like in desire, which moves us in the novelty of repetition. I could say more, but I limit myself to the streaks of the night in the shining of the sun.

It is a method of passage, but without discourse. The perpetuity in which words expire is thus avoided. Pasted, torn, layed over, removed and put back, but without any intervention of mine. What results from another time, taken off, torn off, filled, saturated and undone, knowing, however, that the thing is always ready made, in the unfolding of every corner, in the expectation of the unexpected. It dwells, at least, in pure surprise. A gesture, solely, to delimitate the unfinished. Beyond that, what’s left is to register encounters in the deluge of endless information, more or less like someone who turns urinals upside down for the sheer pleasure of reaching emptiness. Of the walls, of course. Without adding or removing any fantasy, but in the full haunting of some phantasms. Of the original, remains only what passed. I picked up the dice played by, I don’t remember who, throwing some names at random, after those of Mimmo Rotella and Ana Hatherly, for different reasons and in different cities of Europe.

I did almost nothing.

More

Window / Atlas / We are happy

Luísa Salvador, Maria Rocha & Mariana Sameiro