Mia spent her life hiding everything under her bed. Her questions, the found objects, her femininity, the forgotten, the discarded, all that was said, all that was inhabited and traced. She hid flowers she gave herself, animals, water, rivers and meadows. She sought to reconstruct and create those spaces of her memory, knowing that, the act of remembering is vulnerable to change, and, our memory an unreliable narrator.
She is currently trying to lift the sheet so that the images can be looked at, interrogated in our present, where history and memory can be understood. This action needs all patience -necessarily painful- so that the images can be peer, and will make sensitive the irreducible time relations in the present.

OH HEY, FOR BEST VIEWING, YOU'LL NEED TO TURN YOUR PHONE