Bodies in Transit: a Brazilian Artist Across Unlikely Geographies

There is a specific kind of displacement that is not merely geographic. It happens when a body enters a circuit that was not made for it, or at least, not conceived from it. In that interval, presence shifts from participation to friction.

In April 2026, I take part in Architectures of Dream, presented by the Cosmoscow Foundation for Contemporary Art in Moscow, at the invitation of curator Azu Nwagbogu. I am the only Latin American artist in the international selection, alongside artists such as Satch Hoyt and Kyu Sang Lee. What might initially read as a simple fact quickly becomes structural: it defines not only a position, but a field of tension.

This is not about representing a territory, representation already assumes a kind of stability that does not interest me, but about understanding what it means to operate from a body that carries different symbolic, historical, and spiritual formations within a circuit that still organizes itself through relatively fixed axes. Being there is not about belonging, but about negotiation.

The curatorial framework of Architectures of Dream revolves around imagination as a tool for world-building. Not as escapism, but as a situated practice capable of producing continuity under conditions of rupture. Azu Nwagbogu’s notion of “Happy Survival” points toward a form of survival that exceeds passive resistance, mobilizing aesthetics, culture, and invention as active strategies of existence.

But what happens when this imagination crosses such distant geographies? And further: what happens when it is activated by bodies that do not share the same conditions of visibility, circulation, or legitimacy?

The presence of only three foreign artists in the exhibition makes clear that international circulation does not operate as a continuous flow, but rather as a carefully managed exception. In this sense, there is no room for naivety: to be present in this space is also to confront the limits of that openness.

My work emerges from other structures. It is built at the intersection of performance, Afro-Indigenous spiritualities, and the notion of the body as an archive — not a fixed archive, but a field of constant updating, where memory, gesture, and energy reorganize themselves. These practices do not appear as themes, but as methods. They shape the way I exist within the work, and consequently, within the spaces the work moves through.

To insert this kind of practice into an international circuit like this is not only a question of language, but of epistemological friction. What is at stake is not only what is seen, but what can be recognized as knowledge, as a valid way of constructing a world.

If the exhibition proposes to think of art as an architecture of dream, perhaps it is necessary to ask: who is allowed to dream within these structures? And under what conditions does that dream become legible?

My interest is not in answering these questions conclusively, but in inhabiting them, in understanding artistic practice as a field where these tensions are not resolved, but sustained, where displacement is not a problem to be corrected, but a productive state.

To be in transit, in this sense, is not an accident. It is a position.