Project X
Gesture #17: The Card
I went to the fair with a handful of cards, not printed, but torn, painted, and handwritten. Each one had its own shape, its own hue. I gave them only when the moment felt right.
Not to promote.
To connect.
Some said “Send your portfolio.”
I did. Most never replied.
Looking back, I see it now as something else:
Not a networking attempt. Not a missed opportunity.
A performance.
A quiet offering into a loud system.
A piece of myself folded into paper,
handed over without knowing what would return.
Nothing did. But maybe the act itself was enough.
Maybe that was the art.
Gesture #18: Lost on the Way
A week of printing struggles. A parallel week of daily correspondence with the Portuguese post office, just to answer two questions: How much does it cost to send a registered package, and how long does it take?
The day of finally sending: heavy rain, rejection at the counter, a hasty re-wrap under storm clouds.
Ten days pass, no confirmation of delivery.
Silence from the organizers.
Then: the absurd discovery that the parcel had been sitting unnoticed in a small village for two weeks
What it took to send it, and what it meant when it was left waiting.
Gesture #19: En résonance avec le vide
In April 2025, I proposed a collaborative project centering on weaving, rural communities, and collective memory to an international contemporary art institution. A project about listening, land, labor, and value. Their reply came after a week: “Nous espérons que vous trouverez une institution partenaire dont le travail entre en résonance avec le vôtre.” Apparently, labor, community, and care were not in resonance. Sometimes the silence is not silent, it’s form-letter politeness, coated in cordiality. But it still says: this doesn’t matter enough for our attention.
This episode reflects on institutional disengagement. On the gaps between mission statements and lived values.
“In resonance with…” what?
Gesture #20: Disadvantage That Wasn’t
Effort: Nearly two months preparing an application, one of those months spent implementing a major project abroad, in a country where I didn’t speak the language. Financial strain. Time pressure.
Repeatedly asking for communication.
The official response: silence. Then, eventually, a flat denial of harm.
A line that quietly erases everything it took to try.
When the silence is polite, but the harm is real.
Gesture #21: Your Silence Will Not Protect You
(after Audre Lorde)
In spring 2025, I sent a proposal.
It spoke of care,
community,
collaboration.
A week passed.
Then a reply,
brief,
unaddressed,
redirecting me elsewhere.
To a page I had already read.
To calls that had already closed.
Time had been spent
where time was no longer held.
I wrote again.
Not to insist,
but to mark the gap
between what is said
and what is practiced.
No answer followed.
Only the structure remained:
polite,
intact,
unmoved.
I began to understand
that silence is not absence.
It is a response
that carries no responsibility.
And that staying quiet within it
does not create protection,
only disappearance.
I tried to be heard.
Gesture #22: The Sound of Boundaries Breaking
There are moments when violence doesn’t shout.
It taps. It knocks. It insists.
It arrives under other names
“maintenance,”
“concern.”
The door opens.
Not enough to prove.
Enough to know.
I had set boundaries.
Clear ones.
My home was not shared space.
Yet the knocking came
uninvited,
repeated,
sent by someone who should have known.
What stayed was not the sound,
but the shift that followed:
I was not being respected.
I was being tested.
Something in me adjusted.
Not towards tolerance
but towards refusal.
A no, no longer softened.
Because boundaries are not negotiated
through repetition.
They hold,
or they are crossed.
And when they are crossed quietly,
it is easy to pretend nothing happened.
Until the pattern forms.
And cannot be unseen.
Gesture #23: The Studio
A room I rented.
A room I entered with expectation.
The door was opened in my absence.
Small changes appeared.
Nothing confirmed.
Only enough to register.
Later, I stopped using the space.
Not in a single decision,
but as a gradual withdrawal of trust.
What was promised as stability
became something less legible.
Electricity was described as minimal.
Later, it became a calculation without measure.
At the end, part of the deposit remained withheld.
A figure tied to an estimation rather than a meter.
When I asked for clarity,
the answer shifted toward negotiation.
We find a reasonable solution.
The studio was returned.
The keys were documented.
The space closed.
What remained was not the room,
but the structure around it.
Gesture #24: The Room That Decides
The building feels heavier than its function.
Not because of its size,
but because it creates an atmosphere of intimidation through presence.
​
Inside, roles are visible but not fully readable.
A police presence at the entrance.
A man with a suitcase.
A counter filtering questions into procedure.
​
I adjust my belongings before entering.
Not because I am told to,
but because I am unsure what is expected.
​
A glance from the side.
Not directed, but present.
I register it in my movement.
​
The process is not only administrative.
It produces attention to oneself.
​
No decision is made.
But its structure is already in place.
Gesture #25: The Consultation
I arrived with the necessary information.
​
Not in the expected form,
but present.
​
Before the conversation began,
the absence of printed documents was noted.
​
It remained the central point.
​
What was available
did not fully enter the process.
​
Digital documents were offered.
They were not taken up.
​
The exchange circled
around what was missing.
​
A list was present.
It was explained back to me.​
​
Questions were answered in general terms,
detached from the specifics already there.
​
Understanding did not fail
because information was absent,
​
but because it did not appear
in the required format.
​
A second appointment was suggested.
With the implication
that only then
the situation could be addressed.
​
What remained unclear
was not the case,
​
but the condition
under which it would be recognized.
Assistance.
Another logic.
Gesture #26: The Greeting
A greeting is given.
Brief. Neutral.
​
A recognition,
nothing more.
​
Later, the same person appears again.
Not by accident.
Not clearly intentional.
​
Just present.
​
The first gesture
seems to carry forward.
​
As if it had opened something
that cannot be closed again.
​
No boundary is crossed
in a way that can be named.
​
But something shifts.
​
The space no longer feels neutral.
The movement no longer feels entirely free.
​
A simple hello
extends beyond its moment.
Gesture #27: The Elevator
The space is limited.
Movement is shared.
​
A suitcase blocks the entrance.
The door almost closes before entry.
​
Inside, the air is saturated.
Scent lingers longer than the moment.
​
Another person enters.
A greeting is offered,
followed by an expectation.
​
Eye contact is held open.
Not demanded,
but waiting.
​
I respond quietly.
Then withdraw.
​
More people enter.
Recognition happens between them.
Voices lift.
​
The space shifts.
​
My position becomes visible
through absence.
​
Nothing is said.
But something is implied.
​
A shared space
that does not remain neutral.
Gesture #28: The Approach
It begins without request.
​
A question.
A presence that moves closer
before an answer is given.
​
The distance is reduced
as if it were shared.
​
No reason is strong enough
to refuse without explanation.
​
Attention is assumed.
Not demanded,
but already in place.
​
To step away
requires more effort
than to remain.
​
The closeness is brief.
But not chosen.
Gesture #29: The Elevator Question
The question is simple.
“Which floor?”
​
It is asked
before any answer is needed.
​
The button panel is visible.
The order is automatic.
​
The question does not serve the situation.
It serves something else.
​
A conversation is initiated
without being chosen.
​
To not respond
would interrupt the expected flow.
​
So something is said.
Brief. Minimal.
​
The interaction takes place
because it was started.
​
Not because it was needed.
Gesture #30: The Open Door
The door opens
before it is unlocked.
​​
A voice follows.
“It’s open.”
​​
I remain where I am.
At the lock.
​​
The distance is small.
The instruction repeats.
Louder.
​​
The situation is already resolved.
But it is not left there.​
The voice insists
on being received.
​​
I do not move.​
The door closes.​
The sequence could end.
​​
Instead,
a hand reaches.
​​
Contact is made
without request.​
I remove it.​
The voice continues.
Uninterrupted.
​​
The interaction persists
beyond refusal.​
What begins as access
extends into claim.