Gabriel Herrera Torres

It is the European Middle Ages. Ana’s mother is out in the street and, for no apparent reason, has started to dance. Ana feels deeply humiliated by her mother’s unexplainable behavior. To make matters worse, her mother keeps dancing without stopping for several days, and eventually other people start joining her without giving any explanation. Mortifed by embarrassment, Ana and other teenagers in the village try everything to distance themselves from the adult dancers; but the grown-ups seem determined to make fools of themselves, and to carry everything along with them while landscape, plants, animals, and social roles seem to turn ridiculous as well.

Don Plascencio has a collection of men he uses like radio stations: in a routine aural examination each man plays a different musical piece instead of the usual heartbeat.

Effort to construct an audio-visual dance between the body of an 90-year old man and the body of his house, that has become an extension of himself.

Playful portrait of a group of men trying to build an impossible object.

A young motorcyclist rides and rides in circles on his motorcycle. The more he rides, the more beautiful he gets. Is his beauty his, or does his beauty belongs to the others? Is he playing the game of the world, or is the world playing his game? Where does he ends and the world begins? Is he inside of himself or is he outside of himself? And is there such a thing as being "inside" or "outside" when you are THIS beautiful?

In a local sports center, a man with a great need to talk but little to say recounts a recent dream to a nearby colleague, with deeply confusing and unexpected results.

It is the European Middle Ages. Ana’s mother is out in the street and, for no apparent reason, has started to dance. Ana feels deeply humiliated by her mother’s unexplainable behavior. To make matters worse, her mother keeps dancing without stopping for several days, and eventually other people start joining her without giving any explanation. Mortifed by embarrassment, Ana and other teenagers in the village try everything to distance themselves from the adult dancers; but the grown-ups seem determined to make fools of themselves, and to carry everything along with them while landscape, plants, animals, and social roles seem to turn ridiculous as well.

Don Plascencio has a collection of men he uses like radio stations: in a routine aural examination each man plays a different musical piece instead of the usual heartbeat.

Don Plascencio has a collection of men he uses like radio stations: in a routine aural examination each man plays a different musical piece instead of the usual heartbeat.

Don Plascencio has a collection of men he uses like radio stations: in a routine aural examination each man plays a different musical piece instead of the usual heartbeat.

Effort to construct an audio-visual dance between the body of an 90-year old man and the body of his house, that has become an extension of himself.

Effort to construct an audio-visual dance between the body of an 90-year old man and the body of his house, that has become an extension of himself.

Playful portrait of a group of men trying to build an impossible object.

A young motorcyclist rides and rides in circles on his motorcycle. The more he rides, the more beautiful he gets. Is his beauty his, or does his beauty belongs to the others? Is he playing the game of the world, or is the world playing his game? Where does he ends and the world begins? Is he inside of himself or is he outside of himself? And is there such a thing as being "inside" or "outside" when you are THIS beautiful?

A young motorcyclist rides and rides in circles on his motorcycle. The more he rides, the more beautiful he gets. Is his beauty his, or does his beauty belongs to the others? Is he playing the game of the world, or is the world playing his game? Where does he ends and the world begins? Is he inside of himself or is he outside of himself? And is there such a thing as being "inside" or "outside" when you are THIS beautiful?

A young motorcyclist rides and rides in circles on his motorcycle. The more he rides, the more beautiful he gets. Is his beauty his, or does his beauty belongs to the others? Is he playing the game of the world, or is the world playing his game? Where does he ends and the world begins? Is he inside of himself or is he outside of himself? And is there such a thing as being "inside" or "outside" when you are THIS beautiful?

In a local sports center, a man with a great need to talk but little to say recounts a recent dream to a nearby colleague, with deeply confusing and unexpected results.

In a local sports center, a man with a great need to talk but little to say recounts a recent dream to a nearby colleague, with deeply confusing and unexpected results.