This is our time. “I tell myself it is their fault.” The observer is becoming the observed, illumined by gas lamps or illumined by gas chambers? GodCocteauTheory asks: Are we driven to complicity by noise? Are we driven to complicity by silence? An official blocks the view. A spectral hand passes by again. Is it just another Sunday morning talk show in Paris? From unconscious to dream, from opaque to translucent, I hear voices; Godard and Cocteau’s words fold back on themselves. From comprehension, to music, to pure sound. Descending then rising with Akerman’s voice like “water beneath the earth.”

Whenever I travel to places I’ve been to before, places near where I am in the present and places I’ve never been to in the past I’m reminded that nothing stands still and nothing stays the same. I also wonder what the intention was behind the restructuring of this or that in the natural world and what determined the way in which it was expressed. Sometimes it seems clear to me while at other times it doesn't seem clear to me at all. So what will others will see in the future? Will they determine that there was a coherent and considered relationship to the natural world which made our present possible or will they see chaos and competing needs with little or no coherent consideration? Eventually the world we know will disappear and will be replaced by a world we won't recognize even though it will be a world largely adapted and evolved in response to our dreams as well as our nightmares.

Through images shattered by point-cloud pellets, we dive into the consciousness of a military drone pilot on a peacekeeping mission somewhere in a foreign country. Monitoring strategic objects of desire, he contracts a bug due to an unprotected contact with the locals—setting him on a quest to regain his immunity. A satirical phantasmagoria on today's geopolitics and perversions of war embedded in modern technologies.

A field guide: Flora evolving with environmental changes, and pollinators utilizing biomimicry. Natural objects are gathered, and sculptures of and from the landscape cast reflections of nature being infinite, self-knowing, and alive. Extinct species and stages of evolution are suggested, accompanied by field recordings capturing the underground soundscape of soil. Bird calls and wingbeats offer greetings and warnings. -A rock, a tree, a human—each dissolving into matter and transmuting into new forms.

Was There is a haunting exploration of familial bonds, intergenerational memory, and the enduring impact of shared narratives. Filmmaker Kamila Kuc steps into the emotional stream of inherited family history as the lines between documentary, testimony, and fiction blur. She performs acts of bearing witness not just for herself but also on behalf of her grandmother. Together, they testify to their experiences and the reverberations these stories have over time. I Was There is a palimpsest - a layered tapestry where past and present intertwine in the intimate process of activating memory and vulnerability as forms of resistance. I Was There honours the testimonial object inherited from ancestors and the living connection that binds generations in the shared pursuit of justice and healing.