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Georgia Tier 1 - (25.11.- 01.12 2024) Tier 1 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 1 - (25.11.- 01.12 2024) Tier 1 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia Tier 2 (3- 8.03. 25) Tier 2 - Georgia collective contribution
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Georgia
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Georgia
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Unstable Mappings Lines cross, drift, and fold into each other, mapping not a place but a process. It traces negotiations between bodies, consent, space, sound, and uncertainty, a cartography of relationships that shift as soon as they are drawn. Part score, part memory, part speculation, it shows how we move together: not in straight paths, but through loops, fractures, overlaps, and soft collisions.
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Practicing Uncertainty Throughout this residency we moved, listened, negotiated and re-negotiated presence. Consent became not a rule but a living practice; something shifting between bodies, space and trust. We wandered the city with closed eyes, letting textures, gravity and uncertainty choreograph us.
Conversation became another form of movement, not to decide, but to open. Sound turned into structure, objects gained new meaning, diagrams mapped relations that refused to stay still. Authority loosened, meanings slipped, and improvisation kept disrupting certainty.
In the end, we directed each other remotely, tracing memories through phones and gestures, mapping what we could not fully hold. This residency became a way of getting beautifully lost, a collective exercise in listening differently, sensing deeply, and imagining how we move together.
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Mommy at work An artist buried under domestic duty,
doing the invisible labour that holds everything together.
Not magic. Not celebrated. Just expected.
Art waits. Care doesn’t.
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An artist is is someone someone An artist is is someone someone learning learning German German for their permanent permanent residency residency, repeating repeating phrases phrases that that never never feel feel like their own own, building building a home home in in words words that stumble stumble and fall fall. An artist is is someone someone waiting waiting in in a line line for papers papers that define define their worth worth, worth as as a person person, worth as as an artist artist—waiting waiting longer longer than the art art ever takes takes to make make. An artist is is someone someone carrying carrying too many many languages languages, some some to survive survive, some some to forget forget, some some to remember remember the people people they left left behind behind.
An artist is is a parent parent who who sneaks sneaks five minutes minutes of solitude solitude, knowing knowing that those moments moments hold hold as much much weight weight as a full full production production. An artist is is a student student recording recording every every hour hour of reading reading, writing writing, and creating creating, while while their world world demands demands they quantify quantify every every second. An artist is is someone someone torn torn between between being being free free and being being bound bound—to work, to care, to systems systems that shape shape their art art even when when they resist resist them.
An artist is is a washing washing their hands hands for five five minutes minutes because because that’s all all they they have have, the rest rest of the time time belongs belongs to the system system that demands demands they justify justify their existence existence. An artist is is a stranger stranger in a place place they don’t don’t belong belong, making making art art that that doesn’t doesn’t belong belong either either.
An artist is is caught caught between between making making what the world world demands demands and making making what they they must must. An artist is is someone someone who who creates creates a contradiction contradiction in every every breath breath: art art and survival survival, self self and community community, freedom freedom and captivity captivity. An artist is is... is... a migrant migrant waiting waiting, a voice voice shouting shouting, a dreamer dreamer doubting doubting, an exile exile belonging belonging. What is is an artist? An artist is is this this. And more more. And less less. Always always both both. Always always in between between.
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Sisyphus soft no hard no kind no cold no. bureaucratic no. robotic auto-reply no “almost” no “not this time” no “apply again” no delayed no last-minute no polite disappointment no confusing no silent no
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empty plate An artist starts its days with an empty plate and finishes the day if the plate still empty… making money is a thing for few… and the paradigm of an empty paper to start a process can be more true when thinking that the plate is not empty and a virgin start but as an undesired consequence.