GREGOIRE SCHALLER

Maryse

Between the solitude of the training room and the immensity of the sea, Maryse, a former bodybuilding champion, performs her routine once more. In the quest for a body pushed to its limits, she reveals her relationship to femininity, appearances, and bodybuilding as a form of self-sculpture. The work examines the body as a site of discipline, transformation, and resistance, shaped through effort, endurance, and refusal to disappear.

MATHILDE LAVENNE

IPANEMA

Ipanema reclaims lost histories through patience and long-duration observation, connecting the traces of human and natural worlds. Slow attention reveals transformations, uncovers meaning in phenomena like fossil bioluminescence, and links past knowledge to the present. The work insists that witnessing, reflection, and care are essential forms of resistance against erasure.

JONAS CRISCOE

On the Home Front 

War making doesn’t stop war making. If it did, our problems would have stopped millennia ago.- Colman McCarthy

This video was created by combining war footage posted on You Tube by soldiers in Iraq with a 1950’s postcard found in a thrift store in Providence RI. Though disparate in nature the two images are connected to one another through the chain of war. By placing them inside one another I wish to provide for the viewer a connection between the ease at which we as a nation go to war and the ugly reality that war is. Two worlds. One made up of comfort, leisure and excess and the other of unnecessary death, violence and destruction. I hope that through this satirical depiction that this duality resonates with the viewer; making them question the nature of war and their place and complacency with in it.

ROB MAZUREK

Time Travel Device (redux) - for jaimie branch

Travel Device (redux) emerges as a transference of energy—an aperture opened in the Anthropocene and projected into the Astropocene—where sound, image, memory, and the unseen converge as one living field. Standing within the cardinal axis of my piece: Time Travel Device at Maintenant Marfa in the Chihuahuan Desert, I enter a zone where orientation dissolves into resonance: east / west / north / south not as directions, but as portals. All things in, all things out. The work is not documentation but activation—a ritual system calibrated to receive and emit signal across temporal planes.

This piece is a mourning / celebration in memory of jaimie branch—one of humanity’s greatest losses and greatest gains. Her departure from this perceptual plane reverberates as both rupture and expansion. Through this device, through breath, tone, vibration, I attempt to commune with that frequency she now inhabits. The Radical Chimera is present here—not as metaphor, but as method: disparate energies coalescing into a singular field of becoming. Grief, joy, sound, desert wind, memory, future—all collapsing into one body.

We are fighting for the right to remain open channels. For permeability. For the refusal of closure. Against the calcification of spirit, against the silencing of resonance, against the severing of our connection to the cosmic field. We fight to remember that we are not separate, but one unified body—that we are already inside the device, already transmitting. The Time Travel Device does not move us through time; it reveals that we are time—vibrating, folding, expanding and all inclusive.

In this sense, the work becomes a call toward a more utopian frequency—not as distant ideal, but as present-tense practice. To fight is to listen more deeply. To fight is to open the body to multiplicity. To fight is to allow the Radical Chimera to form—an inclusive constellation where all signals, all beings, all histories are held in dynamic relation. jaimie’s sound continues, not as echo, but as propulsion—guiding us forward into a space where mourning becomes movement, and movement becomes light.

KCFS

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes, it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes.

Sometimes.

Sometimes it takes a hit, a hit, a hit, a hit, a hit, sometimes.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes.

Sometimes it takes.

Sometimes it takes, a hit, a hit, a hit, a hit.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes.

Sometimes it takes.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes.

Sometimes.

Sometimes.

Sometimes it takes a hit, too.

Sometimes a hit takes a hit, too.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

Sometimes it takes a hit.

KCFS is Kelli Connell and Forrest Simmons

JOE CASHIOLA

Dear Venus,

you talk in your sleep, draw all over your arms in permanent marker

spend hours making charms and bracelets to give to friends

I think you are a time-traveler, a saint

your tomato and ketchup sandwiches are not silly or gross

there’s no real rules and you know anything is permissible

and I’m not scared anymore

great is the power of green pink purple

a backyard trampoline for the queen

a bowl of frozen blueberries, purple face, honey hands

I had so much to say before I lost my faith in words, in spells

now I just sit and bleach my hair

Dear Venus,

if I could dance and twirl and sing and everything I touched

was brightened by possibility, light

you’ll show me how

part superheroine, part unicorn witch

I’m not afraid of being forgotten, but afraid of forgetting this illusion

while holding the hammer and nails you ask

‘where are gonna put these little cuties’?

you’ve shown me how to befriend dogs and moths

brushed everyone's hair

and they all have something clever to say

when they see you’ve painted my fngernails yellow

Dear Venus,

you're counting all the garlics we planted in the garden

the number is never the same

you've placed the gnome on the sprouting elder

arranged furniture for fairies under the pine

and the table is set

all my friends are older

we're afraid of the device that never forgets, normalizes all

funny faced, eyes crossed, you laugh at me and it’s wonderful

I hear you singing in the other room

you and your mom harmonizing at bedtime

little creations, tiny plates

wherever we go

whatever happens next

I want to share it with you