Claudia Claremi

In Cuba the flight of fireflies in the night is said to be like a meeting of miniature specters, weakened fires, or wandering souls. Isabel invokes them and triggers the dance.

Portrait of a ceiba tree.

Hailstone is a “condensation” of images from 2020 in Super 8 film. The work, composed of moments lived or seen through screens—such as video calls, Instagram Live footage, home videos, and TV broadcasts—solidifies a piece of the collective memory of the year of the pandemic.

A Puerto Rican family living in Rochester, New York, takes great care of the banana trees in their garden. When winter arrives, they dig up the plants and bring them indoors to protect them from the cold. With the arrival of spring, the trees return to the earth, creating a cyclic ritual that repeats itself year after year. Through this caring activity, Migdalia and Fernando maintain a living link with their roots, and their work becomes both an act of resilience and a way of dealing with their diasporic identity.

No synopsis available yet.

Inside a black hole, rapid movements fill the void. Macroscopic corporal landscapes follow one after the other to percussion in crescendo. White skin pulsates serenely and black skin wiggles, showing a face. Bright discharges explode in the air. In a slow, swaying trance, a shining eyelid reveals and then hides a liquid eye. The swelling and contracting skin of an abdomen makes deep sounds to an unrelenting beat.

In Cuba the flight of fireflies in the night is said to be like a meeting of miniature specters, weakened fires, or wandering souls. Isabel invokes them and triggers the dance.

Portrait of a ceiba tree.

Hailstone is a “condensation” of images from 2020 in Super 8 film. The work, composed of moments lived or seen through screens—such as video calls, Instagram Live footage, home videos, and TV broadcasts—solidifies a piece of the collective memory of the year of the pandemic.

A Puerto Rican family living in Rochester, New York, takes great care of the banana trees in their garden. When winter arrives, they dig up the plants and bring them indoors to protect them from the cold. With the arrival of spring, the trees return to the earth, creating a cyclic ritual that repeats itself year after year. Through this caring activity, Migdalia and Fernando maintain a living link with their roots, and their work becomes both an act of resilience and a way of dealing with their diasporic identity.

No synopsis available yet.

Inside a black hole, rapid movements fill the void. Macroscopic corporal landscapes follow one after the other to percussion in crescendo. White skin pulsates serenely and black skin wiggles, showing a face. Bright discharges explode in the air. In a slow, swaying trance, a shining eyelid reveals and then hides a liquid eye. The swelling and contracting skin of an abdomen makes deep sounds to an unrelenting beat.

The memory of fruit is a project that has been studying the fruits of the Caribbean since 2015 through the fabric of affections surrounding them. The memory of fruit (diaspora) is a film made from interviews conducted in Madrid in 2023. Evoking types of fruit that one yearns for because they have disappeared from everyday life or because they refer directly to a place or moment in life, the film proposes an activation of sensory memory.