Alexandra Cuesta

Alexandra Cuesta cites eternal wanderer Henri Michaux as one of the inspirations for her first feature. It’s curious, then, that the opening sequence of Territorio (the first film Cuesta shot in her native Ecuador) shows us a boat heading for the shore. It is very likely that, to Cuesta, the image of water hides the same connotation than it does to the author of “The Sea of Breasts”: returning home, being sheltered in the mother’s womb. Without detouring from the formal approaches of her previous work, Cuesta traces a journey that crosses the country from north to south, drawing a human cartography in which the aim is to achieve an impossible balance between the foreign traveler’s gaze and the earnest familiarity of those who return home temporarily.

A non-linear reading of time, jumping between ideas, memories and personal creative process. Words move across the spectre; amidst fragments, frecuencies, interference and resonances; like tuning a radio, articulating an intimate and political reflection on motherhood, distance, extractivism, communication and telepathy.

Shot in Boyle Heights in East Los Angeles, this transitory neighborhood resonates with the poetry of local resident Mapkaulu Roger Nduku. Verses about endings, looking and passing through open up the space projected. A string of tableaus gather a portrait of place and compose a goodbye letter to an ephemeral home.

An afternoon exercise of piecing together minimal details for safekeeping: my grandmother's garden, her music, recipes for well-being.

Experimental short film that meditates on the illusion of movement in cinema and the relationship between image and sound, establishing a formal analogy between both elements. The film plays to resolve the paradox between the relationship between real time and the manipulation of it, based on the cinematographic technique. manipulation of time, based on the cinematographic technique

An autobiographical collection of instances that describe the action of living in a post-industrial landscape, the end of a love story and the politics of what is private and what is public. The camera, as a device for recording and recollection, goes beyond evoking the past to become a tool for the appearance and exorcism of spectres.

Memory and identity are observed through textures of everyday life in a portrait of Jackson Heights, home to a large Latin American immigrant population. Images of street, people, and daily rituals render passing of time in a neighborhood that becomes a mirror not just of another place, but also of the past. The meaning of home is explored and built upon collective recollection.

Moving from east to west and back, the windows of a bus frame fleeting sections of urban landscape. Throughout the day, images of riders, textures of light and fragments of bodies in space come together to weave a portrait in motion; a contemplative meditation on public transport in the city of Los Angeles. Isolation, routine and everyday splendor, create the backdrop of this journey, while the intermittent sounds of cars construct the soundscape.