NÚRIA GÓMEZ GABRIEL
  • ÍNDICE
  • INFO

CURRICULUM VITAE  /  CLIPPING  /  FOTO

Núria Gómez Gabriel (Barcelona, 1987) es doctora en comunicación por la Universidad Pompeu Fabra de Barcelona con la tesis Espectropolíticas. Imagen y Hauntología en las prácticas artísticas contemporáneas (2021) por la que, en mayo de 2023, recibe el XXI Premio Extraordinario de Doctorado. Su práctica profesional atraviesa las pedagogías críticas, la curaduría de arte y la escritura de ensayo. Trabaja como docente en el Máster Universitario en Culturas Visuales del ESCAC (Terrassa), Grado en Arte y Diseño de la Universidad Autónoma (Barcelona), Grado de Bellas Artes y Grado de Diseño de Moda de la Bau (Barcelona). Publica los  libros de ensayo Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) y Love me, Tinder (Temas de hoy, 2019). Escribe para diversas plataformas culturales como TEXTE ZUR KUNST, El País, Caja Negra Ed.Blog, CCCBLAB Investigación e Innovación en Cultura, A*Desk Critical Thinking o TEATRÓN; y, en revistas académicas como Teknokultura. Revista de Cultura Digital y Movimientos Sociales (Universidad Complutense Madrid) o Contratexto (Facultad de Comunicación de la Universidad de Lima). Ha colaborado como curadora e investigadora cultural en instituciones como Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía (Madrid), Centro de Cultura Contemporánea de Barcelona (CCCB), Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Barcelona (MACBA), Fabra i Coats (Barcelona), Arts Santa Mònica (Barcelona), TABAKALERA Centro Internacional de Cultura Contemporánea (San Sebastián), Centro de Arte dos de Mayo (Madrid), Hangar Centro de Investigación y Producción para las Artes Visuales (Barcelona), Bòlit Centre d’Art Contemporani (Girona) y La Casa Encendida (Madrid), entre otras; y, en festivales como FEMTEK Prácticas Artísticas Contemporáneas. Feminismos y tecnología (Bilbao), Festival de Literatura Amplificada Kosmopolis (Barcelona) o Festival Internacional de Videoarte LOOP Barcelona. A lo largo de 2021 ha formado parte de jurados de selección de convocatorias y premios culturales como la Beca de Interactivos de Hangar (Barcelona), Residencias de Creación del Centro de Dansa La Caldera de Les Corts (Barcelona), Premi Miquel Casablancas del Sant Andreu Contemporani de Barcelona y Premi Art Nou Primera Visió de la Asociación de Galerías de Barcelona. En septiembre de 2021 recibe el premio INÉDITOS 2022 de La Casa Encendida con su propuesta curatorial LAS MALAS y en 2023 gana la Beca Barcelona Producció de La Capella de Barcelona con la exposición Ángel Peligrosamente Búho [duelos, espectros y materialidad].

email  /  RRSS

PRÓXIMAS ACTIVIDADES

“¿Qué significa vivir una vida feminista?” Esta pregunta, que atraviesa la obra de Sara Ahmed, es el punto de partida para este curso donde exploraremos su pensamiento sobre cuerpos, normatividad y resistencia desde una perspectiva feminista y queer. Las sesiones serán un espacio para dialogar en colectivo, compartir experiencias y construir nuevas formas de pensar y actuar frente a las estructuras de poder que moldean nuestras vidas.

Curso impartido junto al sociólogo, activista gay y traductor Javier Sáez en cuatro sesiones y se aproximen a la obra de Ahmed. Será presencial los días 15 y 29 de enero, 13 y 26 de febrero, El horario será de 18:30 a 20:00 en La Ciutat Invisible. La actividad está organizada en conjunto por Caja Negra y Bellaterra.

+ info para inscripciones

ENTREVISTAS Y RESEÑAS

«Una plaga de polillas». Mención del ensayo Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Silvia Nanclares Escudero en el Público. 17 de agosto de 2024. Link

«’TRAUMACORE’ VS. ‘NO DESITJARÀS ELS BÉNS DEL PROÏSME’». Review de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Itziar Feito y Carlos Acevedo en el blog de FINESTRES. 12 de julio de 2024. Link

«En nuestro taller, un tweet o un post de Instagram están en el mismo nivel literario que un poemario editado y publicado en papel». Entrevista por Clara Ferrer en ULTIMA HORA. 28 de junio de 2024. Link

«La disociación feminista sirve para pensar un viaje de ida y vuelta». Entrevista por Sara Plaza Serna en Pikara MAGAZINE. 22 de mayo de 2024. Link

«Núria Gómez Gabriel – Cicatrices hechas comunidad». Entrevista por Elsa Moreno en METAL MAGAZINE. 24 de abril de 2024. Link

«El retorno de la mujer monstruo». Mención de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista por Ingrid Guardiola en MERCURIO. 13 de abril de 2024. Link

«La urgencia femenina de no tomarte esa pastilla». Mención de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista por Noelia Ramírez en EL PAÍS. 19 de marzo de 2024. Link

«Núria Gómez Gabriel: «A las milenials nos educaron a partir del feminismo optimista del bienestar neoliberal»». Review de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista por Berta Coll en Diari ARA. 19 de marzo de 2024. Link

«“Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista”, Núria Gómez Gabriel». Entrevista por Marc Giró y Noelia Ramírez en Vosté primer amb Marc Giró – Rac 1. 13 de marzo de 2024. Link

«Una ferida fastigosa”, Núria Gómez Gabriel». Review de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Laia Mauri Baraza en NÚVOL – Diari ARA. 21 de febrero de 2024. Link

«Disociadas». Entrevista por Begoña Gómez y Noelia Ramírez en motivo de la publicación del ensayo Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) en el podcast Amiga, Date Cuenta de Radio Primavera Sound. 30 de enero de 2024. Link

«Neogóticas: por qué el horror mágico invade las narratives del trauma». Reseña de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) y entrevista por Noelia Ramírez en El País. 25 de enero de 2024. Link

«12 libros ‘nicho’ que abren conversaciones para un año de club de lectura muy gratificante». Reseña de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Alba Correa en Vogue Spain. 2 de enero de 2024. Link

«Las llamas que amparan el fuego: LAS MALAS. Inéditos de La Casa Encendida». Reseña de la exposición colectiva LAS MALAS realizada en el marco del premio de comisariado Inéditos 2022, por Miguel Pardo en Beatburguer. 29 de junio de 2022. Link

«Criaturas Vulnerables e Inéditos». Entrevista por María Taosa en GENERACIÓN YA ràdio 3. 15 de junio de 2022. Link

«Narcohumanismo, una estimulante exposición. Entrevista a Eloy Fernández Porta y Núria Gómez Gabriel» por Fidel Moreno en Cáñamo. Publicado originalmente en el número 293 de la revista Cáñamo España. Link

«’Narcohumanisme’, les drogues com a crossa del capitalisme» por Alexandre Roa Casellas en Bonart. 18 de mayo de 2022. Link

«Entrevista: Núria Gómez Gabriel i Eloy Fernández Porta – Narcohumanisme» por Girona FM. 11 de mayo de 2022. Link

«La química de l’entusiasme» por Eduald Camps en Diari de Girona. 14 de abril de 2022. Link

«Narcohumanisme amb Núria Gómez Gabriel i Eloy Fernández Porta» Entrevista por Samanta Villar en Avui Sortim de RTVE. 29 de marzo de 2022. Link

«Narcocapitalismo: por qué el sistema nos necesita colocados y anestesiados» Reseña/ensayo a partir de exposición colectiva Narcohumanismo. Farmacias y estupefacientes en las prácticas artísticas actuales (Bòlit, 2022), por Noealia Ramírez  en El País. 26 de marzo de 2022. Link

«Narcohumanisme: les drogues com a evidencia de la nostra isuficiència» por Núria Surrell en NÚVOL ara.cat. 14 de marzo de 2022. Link

«Art i droga s’uneixen al Bòlit. Les seus de la Rambla i el Pou Rodó acullen a partir de demà ‘Narcohumanisme’, una exposició sobre l’impacte dels estupefaents en els individus i les relacions socials i polítiques» por Alba Carmona en Diari de Girona. 10 de marzo de 2022. Link

«El que pot un llibre #7» Conversación con Anna Pahissa en el Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Barcelona. 20 de noviembre de 2020. Link

«Es el mercado, amigo: no culpes al destino de lo que te pasa por usar Tinder», Entrevista por Sara Montero en cuartopoder.es. 10 de octubre de 2020. Link

«Tinder en tiempos de Covid. Diálogos en Red» Conversación con Cristina Hernández en La Térmica Centro de Cultura Contemporánea. 8 de octubre de 2020. Link

«Foddie Love con Núria Gómez Gabriel». Entrevista del programa Equilibristas de Radio 3. 20 de enero de 2020. Link

«Love me, Tinder: Què s’amaga darrera de l’app de moda?». Entrevista del programa El Matí de Catalunya Ràdio. 16 de septiembre de 2019. Link

«Ls felicidad en Tinder es el nuevo porno. Patrones sentimentales exhibidos en la red». Entrevista por Celia Blanco la SER. 3 de noviembre de 2019. Link

  • ENG
  • CAST

THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. —