A look at Les Belles Histoires Du Seigneur by Brantôme. Printed July 30, 1924. Illustrations by Joseph Hémard. Edited by H. Barthélemy for Les Éditions G. Crès et Cie. Copy No. 1695 of a print run of 1700.                         We extend special thanks to | … |

  The day had dawned thick with fog and coldness that dissipated as the bus descended down the Panamerican highway. This time, to come straight from San Antonio de Los Altos–where I live–was an advantage over Caracas dwellers. The bus headed through the freeway, entered the Avenida Bolívar and dropped me off at the corner | … |

Last Saturday, October 15, at the exhibition Powers Seen and Unseen, curated by Kelly Gordon as part of Global Visions: Insights into International Moving Image Art, we had the pleasant experience of hosting the Micropolitics of Creation, Archives, and the Cities of the Future seminar, together with professor Camila Pulgar Machado. This guided visit through | … |

In one of those elusive spots on the campus of the Universidad Central de Venezuela is the Casona Ibarra, a colonial treasure that during the 1940s served as base of operations for Carlos Raúl Villanueva. From there, he directed the construction of the University City that Unesco declared World Heritage of Humanity in the year | … |

Before the memory of the islands dissipates, we have decided to try and revive what we experienced, which in this case is not about talking about this or that street, such and such park, a magnificent exhibition, an absurd monument or a historical place. It’s something different. An island is always something ‘other,’ even if we are inside a museum, even if a house is a house, even if the streets are similar to continental streets. An island, as Gertrud Stein’s rose, is an island is an island is an island.

  The idea stems from the artwork, or rather from the assumption that the work of art can stir up things inside. But given that not every work of art produces something in anyone, one must inquire, feel, expose eye and body; submit to the experience of the senses and to chance as well. The | … |

We embarked on this trip as a disrupted continuity of the previous one, thinking: not one island, two. But Capraia turned out to be the other face of the insular coin, the darker yet dazzled side of the concept of island: when it is closer to the place of imprisonment and repetition, when the map does not lead to a treasure but to the most beautiful trap.

Recounting a trip you returned from some time ago is no piece of cake. There is always a sort of slip of the head, as if the past had slid down the shower drain, as if “returning” was a haircut with memory at the tips. This is why sometimes keeping a journal is an advantage, or if none exists, having been more or less consistent with the uploading of photos and thoughts to cyberspace—this dematerialized place we so inhabit—could also work. There we can search for what was said and seen—to avoid repetition or to invoke it—: to live up in the clouds.