Bolivia, United States | 2022 | 13 min
Language : no dialogue
Amid the lunar landscapes of the Bolivian mountains, the few traces of human presence seem minuscule, anecdotal. Shot by shot, Miguel Hilari’s camera follows these clues that lead to the city and its sonic confusion, where faces are captured with the same attention and poetry as the environment in which they live.
In Cerro Saturno, the lunar landscapes of the Bolivian mountains – where civilisation has arrived almost by accident – captivate first through their majestic, almost sacred nature. The few clues pointing to human presence are initially captured by a camera that stays at a distance, giving the impression that these are minuscule gestures and objects, without importance. These traces – dirt roads, power lines, heaps of stones – take up the frame little by little and act as landmarks for a path that leads gradually to the city. In an urban space represented by its soundscape, the photogenic quality of the natural environments shifts to that of the faces that remain suspended, timeless, they too in a dream. Bodies wait, stuck in stationary vehicles, behind fogged windows and masks. The static shots of Miguel Hilari (Compañia, 2019) use rhythm and simplicity to call particular attention to the creation and reading of a filmic image – and unfurl one by one, like simultaneously dreamlike and very real moments, from which a detail emerges, a movement that is often scarcely discernible but always highly poetic.
El corral y el viento, 2015
Cerro Saturno, 2019