/The Echoes of Prometheus
/Exhibition at Ars Electronica 2025 - PANIC Yes/No
/Project in colaboration with Kika Echeverría
/The Echoes of Prometheus, Ars Electronica Festival 2025, PANIC Yes/No. Linz 2025/
There was a fire.
Gunpowder was ignited, leaving mineral traces along a copper surface. Sparks danced in a rumbling red glow. The heated metal
emitted low and resonant sounds, while the fire faded away. Sizzling traces left behind by the flame cooled, crystallising the experienc into sound.
The long metal plate echoes the low frequencies of what has been witnessed. A present sound that not only recalls what has bee missed, but also what has become. The installation invites us to ask ourselves why technology represented by the sacred fire stolen from the gods by the Greek titan and given to humanity– has become a symbol of panic, extraction and destruction, overshadowing its spiritual warmth, it celebratory nature and its power to bring people together./
There was a fire.
Gunpowder was ignited, leaving mineral traces along a copper surface. Sparks danced in a rumbling red glow. The heated metal
emitted low and resonant sounds, while the fire faded away. Sizzling traces left behind by the flame cooled, crystallising the experienc into sound.
The long metal plate echoes the low frequencies of what has been witnessed. A present sound that not only recalls what has bee missed, but also what has become. The installation invites us to ask ourselves why technology represented by the sacred fire stolen from the gods by the Greek titan and given to humanity– has become a symbol of panic, extraction and destruction, overshadowing its spiritual warmth, it celebratory nature and its power to bring people together./
/The Echoes of Prometheus, Ars Electronica Festival 2025, PANIC Yes/No. Linz 2025/
/The Echoes of Prometheus, Gunpowder scar/
/The Echoes of Prometheus, Shrine/
/The Echoes of Prometheus - Ignition collectiv video/
COBRE
Están redimiendo el cobre
con las virtudes del
fuego.
De allí va a salir hermoso
como nunca se lo vieron
las piedras que eran sus
madres
y el que lo befó por
necio.
Suba el Padre Cobre, suba,
que naciste para el fuego
y te pareces a él
en el fervor de tu pecho.
Todavía, todavía no
confiesas
el secreto del amor y de
la fiebre
que está en tus piedras
gimiendo.
Nadie te habrá dicho
hermoso,
porque el pecho no te vieron.
Día a día te volviste
la pobre piedra quedada,
la pobre piedra que duerme
y dura y odia la llama,
y eres, ya, todos tus
muertos
antes de ser sepultada.
Helados llanto y sonrisa,
la oración y la palabra,
el amanecer, la siesta
y la oración no arribada.
Ya es lo mismo, ya es
igual
la mudez que la palabra.
Gabriela Mistral
/The Echoes of Prometheus - Documentation video/
/The Echoes of Prometheus, Light flame/
