Video performance, HD 16:9, 14 minutes, stereo, color. Gran Canaria, Spain.
The video performance 'In the Time of the Flying Fishes' was created during a research-
based art residency on the island of Gran Canaria, located in the Atlantic Ocean, off the
northwest coast of Africa (west of Morocco and the Western Sahara). Inspired by the
mythologies of the original peoples who were decimated by colonial violence, the artist
transforms a rusty, forgotten fishing structure into a net of memories, casting it over the
ground and air as a poetic gesture of rescue. The corroded metal, marked by time,
becomes an extension of her body, which, through delicate and almost ritualistic
movements, attempts to fish out the memories hidden beneath layers of earth and
history. Each oscillation, each effort to lift the heavy object, becomes an attempt to reach
what still lives in the silence of that territory—a kind of ancestral murmur, an echo of the
footsteps of those who, without leaving naval traces, crossed seas to inhabit the islands.
In this act, the artist not only fishes but weaves invisible threads between the present and
the past, creating a visual diagram where what was lost can be, even if just for an instant,
touched and felt once again.
Video performance, HD 16:9, 14 minutes, stereo, color. Gran Canaria, Spain.
The video performance 'In the Time of the Flying Fishes' was created during a research-
based art residency on the island of Gran Canaria, located in the Atlantic Ocean, off the
northwest coast of Africa (west of Morocco and the Western Sahara). Inspired by the
mythologies of the original peoples who were decimated by colonial violence, the artist
transforms a rusty, forgotten fishing structure into a net of memories, casting it over the
ground and air as a poetic gesture of rescue. The corroded metal, marked by time,
becomes an extension of her body, which, through delicate and almost ritualistic
movements, attempts to fish out the memories hidden beneath layers of earth and
history. Each oscillation, each effort to lift the heavy object, becomes an attempt to reach
what still lives in the silence of that territory—a kind of ancestral murmur, an echo of the
footsteps of those who, without leaving naval traces, crossed seas to inhabit the islands.
In this act, the artist not only fishes but weaves invisible threads between the present and
the past, creating a visual diagram where what was lost can be, even if just for an instant,
touched and felt once again.