Abel

In the last moments before giving birth, a mother sees how some moments of her life and her child are similar.

In a rural periphery in the midst of transformation, agricultural machines devastate the fields and the places are haunted by an eternal gloom. Out of the flames, the bells are reborn, invoking the presence of the community.

In the microcosm of a fragment of a resin sculpture, we observe fossilized eucalyptus leaves. The suspended still life, where we think we see specters of a world-image, is demystified by the sound of the tumultuous Cure.

I begin by looking closely. I tread on the earth, which, divided by lines, seems endless. In the beginning, there was the seed. Hidden underground, it is condemned to a fleeting existence, with no possibility of renewal. Monocultures have homogenised the landscape to such an extent that I can no longer see what lies beyond, beyond the fields. I imitate the machines that work at night, reversing the natural cycle of plants, which depend on sunlight. Sometimes I challenge myself to enter their labyrinth, hoping to find the end of the field. I repeat these visits until exhaustion, until the sterile fruit is ready to be harvested.

To produce speech, a set of mechanisms must be brought together. What is the normal articulation for speech? How to produce the sounds that make it up in the correct way? A physiological analysis of the aspects of speech shows us how: the jaw must move in a certain way; the air must be expelled from the lungs in another. Based on the concepts stated in the film "Normal Speech Articulation" (1965), produced by the University of Iowa (USA), we intend to reflect on the way women have been represented, and consequently educated, over the years, both in film and in the media. Largely composed of archival footage, this film intends to make evident, through a montage inspired by Structuralist movements, the violence of this education.

Amongst the victims’ names, his own. The cassette tape that jams. The telephone that rings. The news of Lucinda coming. The dinner burns to ashes. The fans that roar and the oppressing heat. Lima’s condition is deteriorating, and time no longer exists: all days are one. One lonely day.

Routine imprisoned Eva in an automatism that was ingrained in her spirit. Dromomania will perhaps be the expression that best illustrates her condition. She feels absent, and her frivolous glance catalogs each one of the small details of the journey that imprisons her every day. Her apathetic state is interrupted when she crosses an object outside the street and Eva is forced to finally face her demons.