Ukrainian Film Screening Schedule 

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July 26th, T&C, Stam Europa Building
(of the future, in self-construction)
Brussels
I invited a friend I met at the street of Belgian Embassies, whose name is Freeman.

Results belonged to the sincere concrete structure if to no collectivity.

Organized by skincity__, winnie & krav nah koem in an anti-budget way.
Materials are gathered as if this government-permitted cultural new building is a farmland where edible resources are grown if you try with manual force while observing the rain with quasi-sensoring eyesight.

Friends, open call applicants, invited guests gathered for hypothesizing dazed Christmas balls and post-dust atmosphere generated not by machines but by raw concrete and speed of falling artificial earth-made smoke.

Immigrants from the East need nothing more than the white skinners.

Race, gender, and unsettled yet remote class colonize all young artists who do or do not inherit memories from their ancestors who can never see the geopolitics now but dare to be spatial engineers, make scenographies, claim ownerships, and divide boundaries in a half-funded art space of concrete materiality.  


 Yet ‘Future of this event might be on your CV’ and individual portfolios, carried rumours say the bizarreness of certain intrusive individuals is nothing but a displaced experience of immigrants who resonate so much with Ukrainians in the EU, whose situation was badly negotiated with the States in public news. ‘Everything is an open secret’, says the boys. Immigrant girls yet risk their lives in survival mode to be on time.

Who are we all after this dream of buried textiles washed by vinegar’s acidness, only a smaller-than-average body can fit into the shabbiness, and I-deserve-better-ness? ‘Latvia, A Short History’ was never recited as ritual, nor discussed among our beautiful audiences, flirting with each other’s ex-lovers and illuminated job seekers by a nearby garden of perfect spheres. Those senses of time and door keys are both temporally retarded, but painfully buried amid the almost fainted organizer’s purest idealism of them all. Krav’s poem is from the Far East Thai farm land imagery rather than from the lowland. None’s responsibility was heard. A leader shall be self-claimed, or the policy of rights distributed as a social contract of this new space of old concrete.