
I kept the images and the voices apart on purpose. You see the places - the rooms, the objects, the light - but not the people. You hear the people, but you don’t see them. Neither explains the other. It’s closer to a book than a film: a film hands you everything and you take it in; a book gives you a thread and you do the rest, the imagining, the picturing. I wanted that gap left open.
This isn’t a record of what these communities built. I’m not here to show you finished proof and have you admire other people’s achievements. What I wanted was for people to listen, and look, and feel the way you do after a good book - the life-changing kind - when you close it and want to do something. Nothing big, necessarily. Just a little rip in the routine. That voice in the back of your head whispering that’s possible, getting louder, getting clearer.
Hear the voices in the quotes, or find every place on the map.
Each site comes as a set of photographs, printed large and pasted straight to the wall - unframed, sometimes over what is already there, left to weather as part of the piece. Where a wall will not take paste, the prints hang on fishing line. Sizes scale to the space, and the arrangement is not fixed.
Every print comes a QR code to the voice recorded at that site. The audio and the images are kept apart on purpose - a visitor listens and looks separately, and joins the two for themselves.
One thing holds throughout: a community sees images from the other sites, not its own. The work is less a record of what each place has built than a way of putting one community’s future in front of another.
The prints are left with the host at the end. Hosting needs a wall and a bit of room; everything else travels with the work.
To talk about showing it, get in touch: info@enricopolicardo.com