Saturday, September 27, 2025
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I move through soundscapes where melancholic folk meets spectral electronics and art-pop.
What draws me in are atmospheres more than genres: cinematic, nocturnal, slightly fractured, with voices that feel both intimate and distant. I gravitate toward French poetry, German angularity, British gloom, and the raw storytelling of the American underground. Listening is a form of architecture—building temporary cathedrals of sound where memory, desire, and critique coexist.
Friday, September 26, 2025
The Age of Digital Idiocy
Marta Lamas’ critique of contemporary digital culture sheds light on a fundamental paradox within feminist theory: while feminism has gained unprecedented visibility and historical legitimacy, the platforms that now amplify its messages also serve as megaphones for uninformed, regressive, or outright idiotic voices, diluting the movement’s impact and fragmenting its narratives, particularly on apps like TikTok where virality often favors spectacle over substance, thus echoing concerns raised by theorists such as bell hooks and Nancy Fraser who have warned against the commodification and depoliticization of feminism in neoliberal arenas, where the logic of the algorithm supersedes that of ideological commitment or critical rigor, and as Lamas sharply observes, “before, if an idiot said something, it got lost — now they say it on TikTok and millions see it,” a remark that underscores the structural danger of digital platforms functioning as epistemological equalizers, where every opinion is granted visibility regardless of its ethical or intellectual merit, further complicating the feminist project which requires not only mass awareness but discursive clarity, intersectional nuance, and coalition-building, particularly with male allies whose involvement must transcend tokenism to become a strategic undoing of patriarchal norms from within, as Lamas insists that feminism alone, even with moral and historical justification, cannot dismantle deeply embedded power structures without engaging those who benefit from them, making it essential to reclaim digital spaces not by silencing but by outthinking the noise, elevating transformative knowledge over viral ignorance, and preserving the integrity of feminist struggle amid a cacophony of trending trivialities.
Collapse and Threshold Imagination
The Greek term metaxy, meaning “between”, serves as the conceptual axis around which the condition of liminality is explored as a generative threshold space where established categories—social, symbolic, epistemological—are destabilized, allowing for the emergence of new configurations of identity, perception, and collective experience, since during the liminal phase traditional structures dissolve, roles become ambiguous, and actors engage in a space that is neither past nor future but radically present, a moment of suspension in which creativity and transformation become not only possible but necessary, especially when applied to contexts of social rupture such as war, colonization, or systemic collapse, where entire societies inhabit liminal states marked by uncertainty, disorientation, and the potential for renewal, and where knowledge arises not from fixed systems but from the embodied and situated action of individuals who navigate the thresholds of meaning through rituals, performances, and encounters with alterity, as seen in the spectral figures of shamans, witches, and mediums who traverse ontological frontiers and whose presence signals that liminality is not merely a passage but a mode of being, a terrain of play and possibility in which the real and the imagined interact, producing a unique epistemology rooted in the now, in the porous zone where cognition is distributed between body, space, and relation, displacing binary distinctions and enabling a revaluation of failure, loss, and disappearance as moments of insight and transformation, suggesting that learning and social change occur precisely in those unstable zones that escape classification and invite continuous negotiation of meaning and form
Wednesday, September 24, 2025
WATER AS TERRITORY:
The documentary La Cuenca, Ontologías del Agua, created by the artistic collective Left Hand Rotation in collaboration with local communities and environmental movements in Pucón and Villarrica, redefines the watershed not merely as a hydrological unit but as a living ontology—a space where relational modes of existence, resistance, and memory converge; in this framework, water is not a resource but a connector of beings, linking Indigenous territorialities with broader ecological struggles; the film deploys a participatory structure where each interviewee draws and links key concepts—starting from AGUA—to co-construct a relational script that mirrors the fluid interdependence of life in the territory; rooted in Mapuche epistemologies and the lived experience of those defending the Trankura basin from extractivist pressures, the narrative exposes the ontological fracture imposed by colonial-capitalist paradigms and affirms the urgency of reweaving worlds from the logic of reciprocity; Kelwe, a 10-minute spin-off, portrays the Huaiquifil family’s resistance, underscoring how the criminalization of Mapuche authorities reflects not just a dispute over land, but a deeper conflict over what counts as life and who gets to define it; screened in numerous international festivals, the film stands as a cinematic gesture of solidarity with all who, like water, resist erasure through generosity, memory, and movement.
THE BOOK
Finishing a book efficiently is not about writing faster but about writing smarter, with structure, clarity and sustained momentum; the key lies in defining the problem the book addresses—what question are you answering, what gap are you filling, what itch are you scratching for the reader—and once this is crystallized, everything else aligns: the chapters become responses, the tone becomes consistent, the purpose sharpens; instead of waiting for a perfect time to write, establish a daily connection with the manuscript, even if only for thirty minutes—this micro-commitment keeps the material alive in your mind and prevents overwhelm; begin by placing the entire draft in one working document, with provisional titles for each section, to create a sense of unity and visibility, allowing you to jump between sections based on time or energy, and to feel the satisfaction of measurable progress; use milestones and small deadlines strategically, not just to pace yourself but to create momentum—submit a chapter to a friend, pitch a talk, set a print date, anything that creates external structure; keep your reading sharp and targeted, ensuring you’re informed but not buried in research, and take structured notes that feed directly into the manuscript; seek feedback early and often—not soft praise but honest critique that can sharpen your argument or reveal blind spots, and welcome discomfort as a sign of growth; above all, remember that writing is not waiting for inspiration, it is thinking in motion, and clarity often emerges through the act itself; books are not finished when they’re perfect—they’re finished when they are clear, coherent, and capable of making meaning in the hands of others.
ALL WRITING IS REWRITING
Writing, in its deepest academic incarnation, is not a solitary or spontaneous act but rather a dialogic engagement with prior thought, a practice that Tara Brabazon, in her exploration of Joseph Harris’s Rewriting: How to Do Things with Texts, frames as both a method and a mindset; to write is to rewrite, not only in terms of editing one's own drafts but in weaving, transforming, and reframing the inherited voices and arguments of others; this is no mechanical citation exercise but a conscious act of interpretation, where meaning is not transferred intact from one scholar to another but emerges through contextual friction, creative critique, and intellectual generosity; Brabazon's emphasis on the collective and historical nature of research calls attention to the legacy of ideas and the responsibility we assume when engaging with them—not as ventriloquists parroting earlier scholarship, but as active participants in an evolving discourse; her metaphor of writing as a cover song underscores this beautifully: a powerful rewriting pays homage while generating difference, echoing yet innovating; through rewriting, academic writers both show their lineage and assert their novelty, enacting what she terms a “social practice of writing”; interpretation, then, becomes a mode of respectful resistance, where we represent others fairly before critiquing them, where paraphrasing is not appropriation but positioning, and referencing is not just avoidance of plagiarism, but an act of scholarly integrity; crucially, Brabazon argues that digital culture has accelerated textual movement but eroded interpretive depth, replacing information literacy with the illusion of it—cut, paste, post; thus, genuine rewriting requires slowness, reflection, and a set of critical questions: what is the argument? what do they think they're doing? why now, and for whom? by engaging with these queries, we reclaim rewriting as interpretation with intent, a rigorous and ethical foundation for all scholarly contribution.
Tuesday, September 23, 2025
Critical radiography
Reconfiguring radiography through a critical theory lens reveals how medical imaging extends beyond clinical neutrality into contested terrains of representation, visibility and power, where bodies are not only scanned but symbolically encoded, interpreted and subjected to institutional logics that shape what is seen, how it is read and whose knowledge is privileged; rather than viewing radiographic practices as mere applications of technical expertise, the argument pivots towards understanding imaging as an epistemological apparatus—a visual discourse that operates under regimes of authority, silence and standardisation, often masking structural biases, particularly around race, gender and disability, by naturalising the gaze of the machine and the assumed objectivity of interpretation; embedded in this critique is the call to reposition the radiographer not as a passive technician but as a knowledge worker, capable of ethical reflection and active participation in constructing meaning, raising questions about image ownership, diagnostic narration and the affective labour of making bodies legible within hierarchical medical systems; case studies across diverse imaging contexts—from trauma scans to maternity sonography—reveal how patient identities are flattened or erased through routinised imaging processes, while professional training often reinforces this detachment through a curriculum prioritising mechanics over ethics, leading to what the text terms epistemic underexposure, a failure to equip practitioners with the conceptual tools to interrogate their own seeing; integrating feminist theory, postcolonial critique and visual culture studies, the work urges a reimagining of radiography as a culturally embedded and ethically charged act, reclaiming criticality within a field often rendered invisible in theoretical debates, and suggesting that visual medicine must not only heal but also see justly, reflexively and with a commitment to plural knowledges.
Platform confusion
Blending the informal tempo of Facebook with the structured demands of academia reveals how digital immediacy disrupts reflective educational engagement, particularly when users treat social media as pedagogical spaces without recognising their communicative bias; Facebook, framed through Harold Innis’s distinction between time- and space-biased media, emerges as a platform whose speed and reach displace depth and context, encouraging oversharing, superficiality, and impulsive contact that undercuts professionalism and pedagogic structure, especially when students bypass institutional channels in favour of the most convenient outlet, often leaving assignment queries or confessions in public view, confusing personal visibility with academic intimacy, and accelerating information flow without regard for coherence or appropriateness; the cultural moment of 2010, when Facebook overtook Google in visitors and both Zuckerberg and Assange polarised the meaning of digital transparency, reflects broader libertarian fantasies of unregulated data circulation where speed replaces reflection, while interpersonal and scholarly norms erode in the name of connectivity, culminating in moments where educators face public dilemmas over whether to respond to academic queries posted on their social profiles or to fend off unsolicited professionalism-checks from anonymous reviewers seeking credibility via Facebook messages; this dissolution of boundaries between work and leisure, privacy and publicity, formality and spontaneity, is compounded by a widespread lack of information literacy, where platform selection, discursive tone and communicative purpose are not critically aligned, resulting in an epistemic dissonance where even high-level debates—such as a public challenge to a scholarly book endorsement—occur in trivial digital formats that strip nuance and intent; consequently, a reassertion of media consciousness is vital, as educators must champion a deeper awareness of medium-specific affordances and constraints to counteract the pervasive trivialisation of academic discourse through fast, fragmented, and informal platforms like Facebook. (Brabazon, 2015)
GEOMETRIC LAYERS
Language learning often prioritizes memorization and grammar over immersion and perception; however, the Geometric Immersion by Layers method proposes an alternative path rooted in radical listening, borrowing from Stephen Krashen’s comprehensible input theory and techniques of expanded attention. This method conceptualizes language not as a linear structure to be decoded, but as a latent acoustic body revealed through density and simultaneity. The practice involves listening daily to three overlapping audio tracks in the target language—e.g., Swedish radio segments—combined with a low-level musical layer that integrates the auditory field, simulating a polyphonic environment like a crowded café. Here, the learner is not expected to understand fully but to be shaped by the contours, cadences, and repetitions that emerge over time. The method avoids translation or explicit rules; instead, it seeks to reproduce a pre-linguistic state of infant immersion, demanding patience and sustained exposure rather than analytical effort. A case study structured over 30 days involves alternating audio densities (from one to four layers), maintaining a daily log of sensations and recognized elements, conducting weekly self-interviews, and final comprehension evaluations using previously unheard audio. Participants are also encouraged to compile a passive glossary of 300–500 words recognized through context alone. Initial tests suggest that this layered exposure leads to a visceral internalization of the language, where meaning gradually emerges—from chaos to pattern to presence—validating the method's claim: the ear sculpts the tongue.
Monday, September 22, 2025
Nowadays
Our work consists of active series spanning urbanism, art, science, and humanities, exploring liminal spaces and creating sensitivity layers through the accumulation of experiences. Each discipline interweaves with its context, generating dynamic encounters that challenge permanence and perception. In architecture, projects like the Trole Building in Madrid stand out for transforming industrial structures into adaptable workspaces that dialogue with their surroundings. In the field of installation art, series such as YELLOW BAG use a simple everyday object to mark transitions and presence across urban settings like Madrid and Lagos. From the perspective of science and technology, projects like Psicología Ambiental Hoy delve into human interaction with space through perception and memory, analyzing how environments shape behavior. In film, the COPOS series comprises over 500 videos documenting urban interventions, exploring the idea of an unstable archive. For performance, works like DOBLE CARA investigate duality and perception through choreographic movements and installations. Finally, in the humanities, CAPA (Council of Applied Art and Philosophy) integrates theory and practice, proposing new hermeneutic frameworks to redefine authorship and cultural production. Projects are often situated at the intersection of urban space and social dynamics, using subtle interventions to shift perceptions. Works like Spanish Bar capture the fading essence of traditional community hubs, transforming familiar locations into contexts for reflection on cultural shifts. In the ongoing series TWINS, the city becomes a fragmented reality of mirrored elements and contrasts, creating a dialogue between symmetry and rupture across urban landscapes. The textile-based project Re(T)exHile, presented at the IV Lagos Biennial, explores sustainability and memory through fabric, addressing the dualities of preservation and transformation. In Conversation Installation, ephemeral dialogues become the core medium, turning the spoken word into an art form that evolves with each participant’s input, challenging the traditional stability of exhibitions. Across these projects, the aim is to use art as a lens for rethinking presence, identity, and transformation. Each piece—whether through sculpture, performance, film, or architecture—becomes a tool for examining the boundaries between permanence and impermanence, creating a dialogue between context, action, and memory.
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Once a rural retreat of modest fishing villages and quiet calas
Ibiza has now become an extreme case of tourist-driven transformation, where identity, landscape, and social balance are being dismantled by high-end tourism and speculative development, as journalist Joan Lluís Ferrer argues in his book Ibiza Masificada, which describes how the island has turned into a theme park for the wealthy, pushing out local residents, expropriating rustic land, and stripping access to housing and public spaces from those who don’t belong to the global elite; the shift is visible in the rise of luxury beach clubs, gated villas, private marinas, and a public discourse that values profitability over sustainability, turning Ibiza into a symbol of urbanism driven by spectacle and exclusion, where each season intensifies the housing crisis, environmental strain and social fragmentation, making it nearly impossible for essential workers—teachers, nurses, or civil servants—to live on the island they serve; Ferrer warns that this model of development, now normalized in Ibiza, could soon be replicated in other regions of Spain such as Málaga or parts of inland Andalusia, as tourism becomes less about culture and more about consumption; with up to 276 tourists per resident in high season, Ibiza is no longer a Mediterranean destination but rather a failed laboratory of hedonistic urban planning, where short-term gains eclipse any long-term vision for coexistence, and where locals find themselves alienated from their own land, forced into precariousness or displacement as their environment is reshaped by the logic of elite leisure and speculative value, creating a reality in which the island's authenticity becomes both a product and a memory.
While the 20th century often celebrated architecture as a set of universal formulas and ideological blueprints
José Antonio Coderch chose a profoundly human and contextual approach that dismantled the rigid precepts of modernism by privileging climate, terrain and daily life over abstraction, as he famously opposed Le Corbusier’s doctrinaire attitude by asserting that the architect should adapt to life, not dictate it, and this ethos resonated through every line he drew, from shaded porches overlooking the Mediterranean to homes that folded into the land instead of dominating it; rather than imposing five points of architecture, Coderch responded with lime-washed walls, wooden shutters, fragmented volumes and topographical sensitivity, building a vocabulary that drew as much from vernacular Mediterranean traditions as from modern principles, an attitude captured strikingly in Casa Rovira, recently reimagined cinematically in Casa en llamas, where the dwelling becomes both set and protagonist, encapsulating the essence of a style that rejected spectacle in favor of lived-in warmth; his creative logic, which many misread as repetition, was in fact a process of refinement through self-citation, allowing details like louvered blinds and horizon-facing chimneys to mature through iteration rather than invention, a method that yielded not prototypes but tailored responses—each home becoming a habitable dialogue with its environment, like Casa Ugalde or Casa Senillosa, where rooms bend toward views and silence, and light carves out comfort, embodying an architectural ethic deeply rooted in observation, patience and empathy, and in his final retreat to Espolla, restoring his ancestral home, Coderch sealed a career that never sought to dazzle but to accompany, leaving us a legacy that whispers rather than shouts: architecture is not a manifesto—it is a listening act.
The Sculptural Gaze
A Nonlinear and Phenomenographic Approach
Sunday, September 21, 2025
The Power of Patience
the landscape of second language acquisition, a critical divergence emerges between naturalistic learning through comprehensible input and the formal classroom approach based on memorization and grammatical sequencing. The former, as postulated by Krashen, fosters authentic acquisition when learners are exposed to meaningful messages that they can understand, even if these messages contain forms slightly beyond their current level of competence (i+1). Unlike mechanical drills or forced output, this process requires time, patience, and emotional readiness, as linguistic competence gradually emerges without conscious effort. Contrarily, traditional methods that emphasize rote memorization, error correction, and early forced production tend to neglect the affective dimension and underestimate the subconscious nature of language acquisition. While memorization may appear efficient in the short term, it often results in fragile, consciously accessible knowledge, unsuitable for fluent communication. A compelling observation in Krashen’s work is that fluency, particularly in adults, often requires upwards of 1,000 hours of rich input under low-anxiety conditions before productive skills begin to surface organically. For instance, immersion programs and sustained exposure to authentic language through reading, listening, and interaction provide the necessary conditions for learners to internalize structures without explicitly focusing on them. The emphasis on input over output reflects a paradigm where comprehension precedes production, and acquisition precedes fluency. Thus, patience is not a passive virtue but a strategic stance: by allowing the mind to absorb language implicitly, learners construct a deep, intuitive command of language that no amount of grammatical drilling can replicate. In this sense, natural input-based acquisition is not only more humane but ultimately more effective than the forced pace of traditional instruction. Krashen, 1982.
Saturday, September 20, 2025
Las cruzadas nunca fueron generosas con los vencidos
La vecina aparece mientras estoy sentado en el peto de cemento,
al fondo del jardín,
cenando.
—¿Qué pasa? —le digo.
—Oye —me dice—, ¿qué sabes de la guerra en Palestina?
Le resumo algunas cosas que leí; son muchas fuentes.
Me pregunta quiénes son los malos.
Le digo que hay una superioridad por un lado,
pero que hubo una matanza de israelíes hace dos años
y que la guerra es muy vieja.
—Vale, es una guerra vieja —dice—, seguro los matarán a todos.
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