Picnic Sessions CA2M | Magui Dávila

Corrimientos de voces 2016

Curated by Maguí Dávila, Jose Villalobos, Pablo Martínez y María Eguizabal at CA2M

MARIANO BLATT/ ITZIAR OKARIZ/ EARTHEATER/ NOCHE DE LENGUAJEO PRECARIO / PIERRE BERTHET/ BRYANA FRITZ & CHRISTOFFER SCHIECHE / JUN DIANA GADISH/ JAUME FERRETE /SERAFÍN ÁLVAREZ/ ALEX REYNOLDS/ VON CALHAO!/ DAVID BESTUÉ/ AIR CONDITION /DICK EL DEMASIADO / FRU*FRU/ KUMBIA QUEERS/ BATIDA

Is not it perfectly logical sit on the grass, watching the sunset and do nothing? Yes it is. Cell phone rings, you forgot the appointment, the phone rings, your friends want you to see. Drink water, do nothing, is beautiful, and background voices in your head. It is also possible to be in Madrid, which is Thursday traveling by train, think of things of this world and (re) discover the Sessions Picnics always, or almost always, insist those gestures that in other contexts would go unnoticed.

Thursday These are presented as a collection of practices of the sensible, practical pursuing all that escapes. This year we have taken refuge in the power of the voice, in his ephemeral in its political value, in its poetic value, languaging and possibilities in space. And it is that how sensitive worthy of the name should always be offered to infinite readings ... and there we are: the only senses are not for us. We get lost, overflowed us, unsettle us, put us inside out ... they question us

©Fotografias/ photographs: Pedro Agustín

Arbustos, sustancias, pelos, ruidos 2017

curated by María Jerez y Magui Dávila

CLÉDAT & PETITPIERRE / ANTONIO FERREIRA / INGA «LOLINA» COPELAND / BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ Y JAIME CONDE-SALAZAR/ MÚSICA PREPOST/ AMAIA URRA / JUANA MOLINA / MÅRTEN SPÅNGBERG / ARANTXA MARTÍNEZ / CLAUDIA PAGÈS / MERCEDES AZPILICUETA / ANTO RODRÍGUEZ / IGNACIO DE ANTONIO / PABLO URIZAL / CHANCHA VÍA CIRCUITO / GNUČČI

“Hairy bodies, headless bodies, plastic bodies. Bodies in strips, cut through by cables, while images speak out. Silver bodies dancing to the sound of cotton, putting on revolving objects between a pre-disc and a post-disc. Amorphous bodies that say things that nobody wants to hear: “Hello, I am a chancha”, and meanwhile, others revolve on a turntable sipping a Hawaiian cocktail. Talking bushes and long hairs that caress the terrace at nightfall. A bone that isn’t; a cemetery for a dog. Among the trees along the road, which are not trees, we arrive at a film that happens continuously and oscillates between one Thursday, two Thursdays, three Thursdays … up to seven Thursdays. Thursday with halo and presence. Presences that you meet when going up, before you go in, presences you try to imagine in this carriage with wigs from Móstoles, from Madrid at the service

of a blanket

of a mare

of a jet

Bodies of the sea of the bar of your gaze, bodies that interrupt a banal conversation. Banal conversation between erudite bodies. One, another … from the great beyond in dialogue with substances sprinkled on shiny floors, coloured skins dancing to hit songs while constantly slipping. They will read disconnected sentences, traces of lost women, anthropophagic exorcism … “strange free trade, losing one’s hair and teeth” said Bolaño; those strange bodies that we all have. Photos of bodies printed on school folders. Cyborgs and beauties, rarities, skills, roughnesses. Half Dolly Parton, half Walter Benjamin. Shadows with legs, like the only image you have of E.T. Naked textures. Off-screen electrodes. Voices with long legs and mother tongues. A voice that comes out like a revealing vomit. Celestial bodies dressed in bubble suits that explode close to your body. Your body there, no stranger is also a strange body. And our hands full of subtitles. Fragments of slow evenings and nights that simply will not exist, because there are things that we keep for the body, your text, your action, your dance, your time...a Thursday, a picnic”.