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| Alice Pontiggia, Silvia Susanna and Steffie de Gaetano use the Cineforum to create a safe space where a pluriversality of reflections raised by viewing video material come together, and where decolonial and demodern futures can be envisioned from a collection of divided visions.
Some Notes invites guest contributors to write additional texts to be part of the Urgent Pedagogies (UP) archive, or to contribute with brief responses consisting of notes and reflections to already existing pieces in the archive or to the project itself.
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| DAAS Cineforum, 2022 at the Difficult Heritage Summer School, Borgo Rizza, Sicily. Photo by Laura Fiorio
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FILED AS Practice (Text Commission) |
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CATEGORY Curatorial, Decolonialization, Educational programme, Network, Research |
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| The English term vision comes from the Latin noun visio, derivation of visus, past participle of the verb videre, which means “to see”. The ancient Greek οιδα (oida) and the Sanskrit वेत्ति (vétti), among other verbs, came from the same Proto-Indo-European root weid- (that expresses the act of seeing), similarly to the Latin videre, but instead came to signify in turn got the means “to know”. The explanation lies with the Proto-Indo-European verb wóyde, from which all of the three verbs derive, that evolved into “to have seen”, a verb form conjugated to the present perfect and therefore expressing the knowledge production consequent to a past action of seeing. Therefore, in essence: I know because I saw.
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| In addition to natural hazard vulnerability, the lack of access to basic infrastructure and financial services imposes restricted production and consumption conditions for this population, as well as limits technological innovations that for some privileged experts, would be promising for reducing our environmental degradation [2]. Hence, when thinking along the United Nation’s promise of “leaving no one behind” for a sustainable future, one must think – What is really possible in marginalized, peripheral, poor contexts?
In my diverse experiences in social projects in Brazil, I came to face situations where from the lack of options, these populations have been actively resisting their existence through informal and creative ways of production, consumption and education. Ways that have been excluded from the respect of government officials and policymakers, but that we can learn from to ressignify our modus operandis that have overpassed the bearable impact on the planet.
I bring to the discussion the practice of mutirão, a word with indigenous roots from Tupi-Guarani mutyrõ (within many other variations), freely translated to English as “common work”. The practice, with debated origin [3], has been present in diverse cultural contexts and geographical regions, suggesting a common intrinsic human trace of solidarity [3], but that aggregates different layers of political and social challenges. Deteriorated by the growing individualization of work configuration, some practices of mutual help survive their remote past’s heritage [3], yet incorporating new complexities of contemporary urban configuration.
In Brazilian cities, despite the legal effort to make cities accessible [4], these challenges include housing deficit, lack of basic services such as sanitation and electricity, and restricted land access [5]. In the overall neglect of this urban ill by some government officials, it creates a condition that obliges people to find informal ways of occupying the city – usually in configurations such as favelas, and ocupações. In these scenarios of poor infrastructure assistance, climate vulnerability is enhanced, being common phenomena of landslides, extreme rainfall and floods that cause significant dwelling damage and human loss. Yet invisibilized by officials, the segregated people find political and social strength by unification of their voices, knowledge and workforce abilities in a territory that is not assisted by formal governance. They collectively construct housing, infrastructure, and collective spaces in labor that are generally non-remunerated, non-hierarchical, and do not aim for a financial profit. Therefore, the mutirão incorporates a political view of anti-hegemonic activity that is contrary to capitalist work relations [6].
To bring this into practical terms, I share a practice of an informal occupation located in Santa Maria, a city in south of Brazil, that is in a current legislative process for the State to formally allow 53 families to live where they have been for the past seven years – “Vila Resistência” – in direct translation – “Villa of Resistance”. The name coherently suggests their will of power, as 15 of the pioneer families came from a situation of eviction from a past land they occupied, and in the current site, they have already been through at least three direct threats of removal [7]. The disputatious situation introduces other various conflicts these organizations encounter, and their need to urgently resist to be able to live.
In addition to natural hazard vulnerability, the lack of access to basic infrastructure and financial services imposes restricted production and consumption conditions for this population, as well as limits technological innovations that for some privileged experts, would be promising for reducing our environmental degradation [2]. Hence, when thinking along the United Nation’s promise of “leaving no one behind” for a sustainable future, one must think – What is really possible in marginalized, peripheral, poor contexts?In my diverse experiences in social projects in Brazil, I came to face situations where from the lack of options, these populations have been actively resisting their existence through informal and creative ways of production, consumption and education. Ways that have been excluded from the respect of government officials and policymakers, but that we can learn from to ressignify our modus operandis that have overpassed the bearable impact on the planet.
I bring to the discussion the practice of mutirão, a word with indigenous roots from Tupi-Guarani mutyrõ (within many other variations), freely translated to English as “common work”. The practice, with debated origin [3], has been present in diverse cultural contexts and geographical regions, suggesting a common intrinsic human trace of solidarity [3], but that aggregates different layers of political and social challenges. Deteriorated by the growing individualization of work configuration, some practices of mutual help survive their remote past’s heritage [3], yet incorporating new complexities of contemporary urban configuration.
In Brazilian cities, despite the legal effort to make cities accessible [4], these challenges include housing deficit, lack of basic services such as sanitation and electricity, and restricted land access [5]. In the overall neglect of this urban ill by some government officials, it creates a condition that obliges people to find informal ways of occupying the city – usually in configurations such as favelas, and ocupações. In these scenarios of poor infrastructure assistance, climate vulnerability is enhanced, being common phenomena of landslides, extreme rainfall and floods that cause significant dwelling damage and human loss. Yet invisibilized by officials, the segregated people find political and social strength by unification of their voices, knowledge and workforce abilities in a territory that is not assisted by formal governance. They collectively construct housing, infrastructure, and collective spaces in labor that are generally non-remunerated, non-hierarchical, and do not aim for a financial profit. Therefore, the mutirão incorporates a political view of anti-hegemonic activity that is contrary to capitalist work relations [6].
To bring this into practical terms, I share a practice of an informal occupation located in Santa Maria, a city in south of Brazil, that is in a current legislative process for the State to formally allow 53 families to live where they have been for the past seven years – “Vila Resistência” – in direct translation – “Villa of Resistance”. The name coherently suggests their will of power, as 15 of the pioneer families came from a situation of eviction from a past land they occupied, and in the current site, they have already been through at least three direct threats of removal [7]. The disputatious situation introduces other various conflicts these organizations encounter, and their need to urgently resist to be able to live.
In addition to natural hazard vulnerability, the lack of access to basic infrastructure and financial services imposes restricted production and consumption conditions for this population, as well as limits technological innovations that for some privileged experts, would be promising for reducing our environmental degradation [2]. Hence, when thinking along the United Nation’s promise of “leaving no one behind” for a sustainable future, one must think – What is really possible in marginalized, peripheral, poor contexts?
In my diverse experiences in social projects in Brazil, I came to face situations where from the lack of options, these populations have been actively resisting their existence through informal and creative ways of production, consumption and education. Ways that have been excluded from the respect of government officials and policymakers, but that we can learn from to ressignify our modus operandis that have overpassed the bearable impact on the planet.
I bring to the discussion the practice of mutirão, a word with indigenous roots from Tupi-Guarani mutyrõ (within many other variations), freely translated to English as “common work”. The practice, with debated origin [3], has been present in diverse cultural contexts and geographical regions, suggesting a common intrinsic human trace of solidarity [3], but that aggregates different layers of political and social challenges. Deteriorated by the growing individualization of work configuration, some practices of mutual help survive their remote past’s heritage [3], yet incorporating new complexities of contemporary urban configuration.
In Brazilian cities, despite the legal effort to make cities accessible [4], these challenges include housing deficit, lack of basic services such as sanitation and electricity, and restricted land access [5]. In the overall neglect of this urban ill by some government officials, it creates a condition that obliges people to find informal ways of occupying the city – usually in configurations such as favelas, and ocupações. In these scenarios of poor infrastructure assistance, climate vulnerability is enhanced, being common phenomena of landslides, extreme rainfall and floods that cause significant dwelling damage and human loss. Yet invisibilized by officials, the segregated people find political and social strength by unification of their voices, knowledge and workforce abilities in a territory that is not assisted by formal governance. They collectively construct housing, infrastructure, and collective spaces in labor that are generally non-remunerated, non-hierarchical, and do not aim for a financial profit. Therefore, the mutirão incorporates a political view of anti-hegemonic activity that is contrary to capitalist work relations [6].
To bring this into practical terms, I share a practice of an informal occupation located in Santa Maria, a city in south of Brazil, that is in a current legislative process for the State to formally allow 53 families to live where they have been for the past seven years – “Vila Resistência” – in direct translation – “Villa of Resistance”. The name coherently suggests their will of power, as 15 of the pioneer families came from a situation of eviction from a past land they occupied, and in the current site, they have already been through at least three direct threats of removal [7]. The disputatious situation introduces other various conflicts these organizations encounter, and their need to urgently resist to be able to live.
Yet, what does each of us see? Has everyone seen the same thing? Far vision, close-ups, distracted passages, microscopes movements, indirect images, clear vision, blurred lines… While we might have shared the same lens, our visions can differ and might be divided. Stemming from the verb divide, division seems to derive from the Latin union between the prefix dus-, which afterwards became dis- and the root vid-, the same root found in videre. Although the prefix disis- is often interpreted as a negation, it could rather be re-understood as suggesting a separation: dis-vision as diverse visions. It is exactly in these dis-visions that we establish our mutual learning and research moment. By confronting dissected visions we are pushed to embrace a plurality of interpretations on the same theme. Besides, in conversation with each other we can en-vision and conceive new imaginaries as well as create new meanings. Triggering our ability to imagine, envisioning means to conceive a thought in one’s mind.
This whole process, thus, is building up precisely the place we strive to create: a safe space where the pluriversalities of reflections raised by the viewing of the video materials can encounter, and where decolonial and demodern futures can be envisioned from this collection of divided visions. wóyde Cineforum is therefore both the name of the (mainly) digital place where the practice is activated, as well as an experimental research tool for investigating the knowledge that can stem from the vision of film materials followed by a collective conversation.
Formerly known as DAAS Cineforum, wóyde Cineforum was conceived out of the wish to maintain, extend and nourish the collective social space and time shared during the postgraduate course Decolonizing Architecture Advanced Studies in the autumn of 2020. For us – Alice Pontiggia, Silvia Susanna and Steffie de Gaetano – st(r)aying together through the Cineforum has become a collective mutual learning practice that has slowly grown through the commitment of the extended DAAS community and beyond.
Before each session, the invited guests receive the programmed film via email, so they can watch the proposed selection in their preferred space-time before the scheduled online collective moment, that is precisely the hosting of the forum. Each session is built around one specific topic, emerging from our personal or collective research interests or one which has emerged in conversation. So far, the themes proposed have been: the possibilities of inhabiting a female-manifesting-body; the question: what is home?; (un)learning as a way of understanding architecture; agricultural practices as revolutionary tools; the construction and dismantling of power narratives through propaganda, fictions and buildings; pleasure as eco-sexual activism; and the intrinsic and technical knowledge embedded in matter. Thus far, wóyde Cineforum has organized six sessions, one of which was held in person during the 2022 Difficult Heritage Summer School at Borgo Rizza in Sicily.
Aware that sight can be a dominant sense over the others in the construction of knowledge, especially in Modern-Western societies, wóyde Cineforum’s curatorial approach position itself within the limits of knowledge production that audiovisual material vision allows, but looking also at the possibilities that authors are experimenting within this medium. That’s why each session is tackling its topic through the confrontation of ever contrasting styles, narratives, registers, languages, epoques and geographies.
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| This text has been remixed, adapted, and built upon daas cineforum for Urgent Pedagogies.
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| st(r)ay is a neologism expressing the ongoing act of growing together through desires and struggles, walking along paths gone astray and converging in wandering places. We met by chance during DAAS postmaster and by intuit began working together. Because of love and admiration we continue to support each other’s work, and collaborate when possible. st(r)ay is not a collective, nor wishes to be; it is not a brand, neither a model. It is a mutating relation on a journey in which we - Silvia, Alice and Steffie - are the minimum affective core.
Silvia Susanna is an architect and art-based researcher based in Rome, Italy. Her practice is situated at the intersection of architecture and experimental filmmaking and her interests are in critical oriented practices, community-driven projects, design research and storytelling. Currently she is exploring the relationship between matter, cultural production, value and memory.
Alice Pontiggia lives as an artisan, architect and artist in Valtellina, Italy. After obtaining a Master Degree in Architecture from Politecnico di Milano and 同济大学 Tongji University, she worked in Mexico and Italy. Her expanded practice is interested in the processes of constitution of cosmologies as eco-techno-symbolic relationships of human and land. She investigates them through writing, metal craft, video, collective laboratories and sound.
Steffie de Gaetano is a Dutch-Italian interdisciplinary researcher currently based in Belgium. Her artistic research practice focuses on bridging environmental degradation to colonial and modern legacies through the traces left by material and matter flows, and beyond-human indices. She currently is a doctoral researcher at UHasselt, investigating geologic architectures and landscapes of extraction.
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Urgent Pedagogies is an IASPIS project.
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