exp.exp

During a celebration, a peculiar entity emerges, rising from the very dinner table. It takes on a hybrid form, part human, part object of the meal itself. Its structure incorporates elements of the table: the tablecloth covering its body, the candles merging with its skin, casting a soft, flickering light. As it materializes, it seems both a living being and an extension of the celebration itself, as if it were the personification of the gathering of people, sharing, and union around the meal. Its soul, however, remains intertwined with the elements of the table, representing the bond between the human and the symbolic, the ephemeral and the eternal.

Corpo Seco

“Corpo Seco” is a short story by Brazilian writer Luís Fernando Veríssimo that tells the story of a man who, after dying, becomes a “dry body.” The character, initially presented as an ordinary person without major characteristics, is abandoned by society after his death, as his body does not decompose in the usual way but remains dried out and lifeless, making him strange and misunderstood.

The story addresses themes such as death, loneliness, and abandonment, while also reflecting on how people deal with what does not fit into the norms of everyday life. The narrative blends elements of humor and philosophical reflection on the human condition.

Upcoming Project: Vigilance and Punishment

This is an interactive performance presentation. It features live sound and performance by EXP.EXP (OIIA and YMA), and live projection by a special guest.

The performer will wear a mask with CCTV cameras installed with ornamental metallic structures resembling horns. The artist’s characterization references the angel from the Old Testament, Ophanim. The images of the audience will be captured, processed by the V.J., and displayed in real-time on the surrounding walls.

The creative concept behind the performance “Vigilance and Punishment” stems from the biblical verse: “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41) and the philosophical writings of Michel Foucault.

The symbolic surveillance of the Catholic Church and the Christian god  —  who is omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent  —,  here criticized and referenced, have always exerted strong repressive power through Catholic guilt over all whose subjectivities were shaped by religious colonialism.

In a Western culture imbued with Christian morality, the figure of divinity counts on both celestial and earthly representative figures  —  angels, saints, and priests  —  to watch over and punish those who deviate from their doctrines. They are everywhere and wield not only religious and symbolic but also objective political power. Today, they form the ranks of what Michel Foucault calls the Panopticon.

In the same vein, technological advances seduce us, and we end up unwillingly selling, or even giving our precious personal data. However, much like in the Panopticon, we do not see the eyes of those who watch, see, and hear us  —  to such an extent that many are encouraged to commit cybercrimes under the illusion of invisibility and, therefore, impunity, or the belief that one can be someone else behind a screen. But today our lives are reduced to digital data and we are under surveillance.

Now, we have a new, more modern way of being watched by oppressors; this time, in the guise of techno feudal billionaires, oligarchs of Silicon Valley, who dominate (social) media, manipulating information and commercializing our personal data.

In this scenario, the digital panopticon represents the modern conjuncture of constant surveillance on the Internet, where users are easily monitored by companies, governments, and algorithms without being fully aware of it. This includes data mining by large tech corporations, online behavior tracking, facial recognition, smart camera monitoring, and the creation of informational echo chambers on social networks  —  frequently of extremist ideologies.

The truth is, we think we are free, under covert, hidden surveillance, because no one is watching and we have plenty of examples of impunity for our virtual sins, when in reality, there’s always someone watching.

Despite everyone in the digital sphere being subject to this, we know who suffers the most consequences: the poorer and racialized population, since those who code, program, and operate technology do it from the height of their privilege, leaving the imprint of their prejudices and the underlying intention to maintain social stratification.

After all, who do surveillance cameras pursue? Who does society classify as a threat? What do they look like? Is It about the clothes, the skin color, the religion (or lack thereof),  the accent, or the zip code? Who is above suspicion? Who has the privilege of remaining unpunished?

Invoking this scenario, the performer will be characterized as Ophanim  —  an angel of a high rank in Christianity and described as a being of light, with an appearance resembling wheels full of eyes, symbolizing omniscience and divine surveillance. Ophanim is considered a guardian of the Catholic god’s throne and is tasked with conveying the divine will, as well as serving as a messenger between heaven and earth  —  as will be the performer, serving as a metaphoric messenger between the real and the digital.