In "ghosting mother", personal mourning rituals and processes of scanning and development intertwine to create a search for traces in the manifestations of memory. Starting from the destroyed grave of my mother, a search begins for the remaining apparitions. A mourning ceremony, a movement of remembrance, attempts at resuscitation. ghosting mother works with methods of autofiction and deals with questions of grief and its ritualization in bourgeois catholic contexts in an experimental documentary form. The self-developed 16 mm film reflects in its own materiality and its damage the failed attempt to record what has been lost.

“I love films that foreground the fact that you are watching film,” states British director Mark Jenkin, who in his film diary returns, among others, to the Cornwall locations which gave rise to his mesmeric Enys Men. The series of Super8 shots taken from his travels and the comprehensive voice-overs make for a fascinating mosaic of encounters, observations, formative quotations from cinematic and other works, and also possible fantasies. Here, Jenkin demonstrates his ability to give his films an appealing timeless quality and to connect the familiar with the curiously enigmatic. One hundred and one interesting facts from the filmmaker’s diary.

The life of a young man (Jan Cina) is defined by order and modern technology; the closest he gets to any form of real communication is when he sprays his pet snail with water in its terrarium. But then the most common of all household appliances ceases to function and the man has to go out and be among people. In her short piece set in a familiar future, director Tereza Vejvodová conceivably builds on the aesthetics of her sculptural film accompanying the production Land of Body at Prague’s National Theatre. Intertwining limbs and torsos are extensions of the silent protagonist’s mind; his world is polished down to complete emptiness. What's the point of us having control of our every step if no-one else accompanies us on our walk.

A reflection on maternity and violence using 43 black-and-white photographs that feature shadows, recalling the beautiful phrase by Victoria Chang: “I am carried in my shadow like a violin in its black case.”

"Clear" is a visceral confrontation with the illusion of "safety," where altered 16mm footage and layered audio reveal the quiet violence surveillance imposes on trans and gender-nonconforming bodies.