Andrés Cornejo Pinto

Cuviví is the Ecuadorean indigenous name for the upland sandpiper, a wading bird that has special significance for the communities living around the Ozogoche lakes in the middle of the Andes. Each year, these birds migrate south from North America. Around September they pass the Ozogoche lakes, where large numbers then “commit suicide,” plunging from great heights into the ice-cold water. A girl lives near the lake. Her uncle lives in the US, and she might be heading there herself. In the meantime, she awaits the arrival of the cuvivís, few of which have appeared in recent years. The lakes are drying up.

On April 16, 2016, a devastating earthquake shakes the Ecuadorian coast. Independiente del Valle, a young soccer team from the Sangolquí Valley, invents a new face for soccer by donating the box office from Copa Libertadores tickets. The club joins the solidarity gestures of a united country. For a moment, sport is seized by a spirit that brings it closer to the realm of pure play. What happens, then, when the game stops being just a game? Is something new invented?

In the family of photographer-turned-filmmaker Misha Vallejo no one ever talks about his grandfather. He only hears about him for the first time as an adult, thanks to an abandoned photo collection. Who was this shadow? And what legacy looms over the family? In his debut film Light Memories, Vallejo shows how the effects of neglect can persist across generations.

Surprising links between borescopic imagery of an underground Cold War–era bunker and human laparoscopic footage lead this investigation of distance and death to hidden new depths, as a surgeon father in Ecuador and filmmaker son in Belgium connect during COVID-19. Empty cavities, inside the body and under the city, leave space to understand what matters most in life: time.

Salango is a small parish south of Manabí. What this land means to Ecuador, however, is huge. Its name is associated with the pre-Columbian legacy of the Manta Wancavilca cultures, the humpback whales that arrive each year to mate, the homonymous island and its coral reefs, the great wealth of marine fauna. It is there, in one of the places with the greatest archeological and environmental heritage of our country, where the Polar fishmeal processor has been operating for 35 years. What does not emerge from the idyllic postcards of the area is the foul smell that pollutes the air, the portrait of people sick from the factory's toxic wastes, the disgusting black smoke that flows into the sea directly from the processor pipeline. That is why it is the struggle of the few members of the community who have not given up and demand that Polar leave.

A forgotten box full of memories and found again in the Jeu de Balle square in Brussels takes on a new meaning thanks to the imagination of a filmmaker.

Cuviví is the Ecuadorean indigenous name for the upland sandpiper, a wading bird that has special significance for the communities living around the Ozogoche lakes in the middle of the Andes. Each year, these birds migrate south from North America. Around September they pass the Ozogoche lakes, where large numbers then “commit suicide,” plunging from great heights into the ice-cold water. A girl lives near the lake. Her uncle lives in the US, and she might be heading there herself. In the meantime, she awaits the arrival of the cuvivís, few of which have appeared in recent years. The lakes are drying up.

Cuviví is the Ecuadorean indigenous name for the upland sandpiper, a wading bird that has special significance for the communities living around the Ozogoche lakes in the middle of the Andes. Each year, these birds migrate south from North America. Around September they pass the Ozogoche lakes, where large numbers then “commit suicide,” plunging from great heights into the ice-cold water. A girl lives near the lake. Her uncle lives in the US, and she might be heading there herself. In the meantime, she awaits the arrival of the cuvivís, few of which have appeared in recent years. The lakes are drying up.

On April 16, 2016, a devastating earthquake shakes the Ecuadorian coast. Independiente del Valle, a young soccer team from the Sangolquí Valley, invents a new face for soccer by donating the box office from Copa Libertadores tickets. The club joins the solidarity gestures of a united country. For a moment, sport is seized by a spirit that brings it closer to the realm of pure play. What happens, then, when the game stops being just a game? Is something new invented?

On April 16, 2016, a devastating earthquake shakes the Ecuadorian coast. Independiente del Valle, a young soccer team from the Sangolquí Valley, invents a new face for soccer by donating the box office from Copa Libertadores tickets. The club joins the solidarity gestures of a united country. For a moment, sport is seized by a spirit that brings it closer to the realm of pure play. What happens, then, when the game stops being just a game? Is something new invented?

In the family of photographer-turned-filmmaker Misha Vallejo no one ever talks about his grandfather. He only hears about him for the first time as an adult, thanks to an abandoned photo collection. Who was this shadow? And what legacy looms over the family? In his debut film Light Memories, Vallejo shows how the effects of neglect can persist across generations.

Surprising links between borescopic imagery of an underground Cold War–era bunker and human laparoscopic footage lead this investigation of distance and death to hidden new depths, as a surgeon father in Ecuador and filmmaker son in Belgium connect during COVID-19. Empty cavities, inside the body and under the city, leave space to understand what matters most in life: time.

Surprising links between borescopic imagery of an underground Cold War–era bunker and human laparoscopic footage lead this investigation of distance and death to hidden new depths, as a surgeon father in Ecuador and filmmaker son in Belgium connect during COVID-19. Empty cavities, inside the body and under the city, leave space to understand what matters most in life: time.

Salango is a small parish south of Manabí. What this land means to Ecuador, however, is huge. Its name is associated with the pre-Columbian legacy of the Manta Wancavilca cultures, the humpback whales that arrive each year to mate, the homonymous island and its coral reefs, the great wealth of marine fauna. It is there, in one of the places with the greatest archeological and environmental heritage of our country, where the Polar fishmeal processor has been operating for 35 years. What does not emerge from the idyllic postcards of the area is the foul smell that pollutes the air, the portrait of people sick from the factory's toxic wastes, the disgusting black smoke that flows into the sea directly from the processor pipeline. That is why it is the struggle of the few members of the community who have not given up and demand that Polar leave.

Salango is a small parish south of Manabí. What this land means to Ecuador, however, is huge. Its name is associated with the pre-Columbian legacy of the Manta Wancavilca cultures, the humpback whales that arrive each year to mate, the homonymous island and its coral reefs, the great wealth of marine fauna. It is there, in one of the places with the greatest archeological and environmental heritage of our country, where the Polar fishmeal processor has been operating for 35 years. What does not emerge from the idyllic postcards of the area is the foul smell that pollutes the air, the portrait of people sick from the factory's toxic wastes, the disgusting black smoke that flows into the sea directly from the processor pipeline. That is why it is the struggle of the few members of the community who have not given up and demand that Polar leave.

A forgotten box full of memories and found again in the Jeu de Balle square in Brussels takes on a new meaning thanks to the imagination of a filmmaker.