In this piece by Michael Labarca, the Zulia-born filmmaker employs footage recorded between takes of his short film La culpa, probablemente, to show viewers what makes up the substance that floods intermediate moments –the expectant looks, the expressions of concentration, the moment in which the narrative drama is broken, or the peculiar disposition of bodies around the fiction about to take place.
The idea that God was synonymous with a Great Watchmaker and that the human body was nothing more than the most perfect watch became popular. Man, in the end, would be an organic machine, a machine with spirit, a ghost that inhabits a skin casing. We are rare and sensitive technology that thinks, invents, and breathes.
The World Is a Strange Planet
In July of 2015, NASA announced the discovery of Kepler 452b, known as Super-Earth—and sometimes simply as the Other Earth. It is the planet most similar to ours in the known universe, only 60% bigger, a few degrees warmer, with a brighter and slightly older sun, slightly reddish skies (the size of the sun along | … |
The Perseverance of the Hole-Filled Sky
Human associations based on feelings are often unfair. They demand a permanent agreement between what we know about people and what we expect them to be, they float on the arduous balance between reality and its ghost. Thus, parents and children ask each other to save the world and make it a blissful place for the other. Here lies the germ of a fairytale that harasses us through age: that first love is usually an irregular experience but we force ourselves to believe that it will be consummated in august satisfaction.
Desde Allá: What Is Told with Simplicity
The gods are just and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us. William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act V, Scene 3. Introduction Our fourth guest to Actos Diversos is writer Juan Muñoz-Tébar. He holds a degree in Literature (Universidad Central de Venezuela) and a Master’s in Creative Documentary (Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona). | … |
The Landscape of Oblivion
To think about the identity of the images of Caracas seems an exercise still linked to the exaltation of the bucolic: the idealized landscape, the majestic character of the Ávila mountain, the privileged climate, the flight of birds of paradise, all make up the spinal cord of this representation. But is this really the landscape that the city becomes? Why does the urban face of Caracas drown its contemplation?