I resti di Bisanzio

There's something wrong with the way things are perceived. A different, unfriendly view is to stand out among individuals as their own maker is spelling the rules from a tv set for them to keep on living or to die. No longer than a blow-up such an illusion will survive...

The strict quarantine in the spring of 2020 reduced the living space of hundreds of millions of people down to just a few square meters. The horizon was limited to the view from the window, boredom permeated the days, and an endless stream of catastrophic rumors emanated from the radio and television. Against the backdrop of his own mental and physical discomfort, the director begins to shoot a video diary. The similarly non-existent static camera records existential monologues as well as activities serving basic bodily needs. This philosophical essay is woven from reflections on the coming transformation of the world and the images that try to capture it.

An irruption in an ex-factory brings to light memories that were buried there. From the walls, custodians of years of stories and silent witnesses of an out-of-time life, human echoes and rustles resurface, winning over the oblivion in which History seems to have fallen.

Virgin wheat like a prologue in two acts broken by Artaud’s words: “Why does a man fight outside? Because inside, it is his anatomy to make him war”.

A moist fresco of the act and the viewing of masturbation. Master where are you. Not shouted research, but instead a telluric implosion, the observation of a disappearance, a useless SOS hurled among paper notebooks, protective nature, cars whose motors are turned off, and forgotten nests.