Each of the projections offered simultaneously from their respective boxes, within the set, develops information, nuances, perspectives, suggested worlds, with which the viewer can be rebuilding, rejecting, complementing, recreating a whole adjusted to his best understanding. We have taken as a thematic basis of this complex experience certain historical circumstances that converged in the deep Salamanca of the first third of the twentieth century, until the outbreak of the Civil War. On the one hand, the scenarios of the dilapidated mansion that crowns the pasture of El Cuartón, next to Vitigudino, luxuriously inhabited by the legendary lady Inés Luna Terrero, known as the Baby, heiress of the whole rich family saga, are shown, lover of such unique characters as the dictator Primo de Rivera or the picturesque Gonzalo de Aguilera, count of Alba de Yeltes. And on the other, the lonely terroirs of the town that were to be built by the hard-working renters expelled from the pasture, according to the detailed investigations on this deed of their own family, beautifully articulated in the book Hundreds of the writer Macu Vicente, who has generously collaborated in So risky project. They are not linear stories. Each montage contains a potential for multiple suggestions that interest us more than the story itself.

Making films is also a playful proposal from which to dare to break certainty, to investigate the unknown, to emulate dreams. From cinema we use conventionally to glimpse the invisible that flutters out of the image, perhaps in the subconscious. An aspiration to shape the report, to believe ourselves as makers of worlds. But it is not about telling the story in pictures. We simply try to perform an exhibition essay that is more conducive to interaction, to be more clearly the reflection of that mirror, of those Stendhal mirrors that walk along the path.

This construction is not a fantasy invention, but a look towards that complex actuality that we try to understand. An experience that may need much more training. And there it is, in case others are encouraged to redirect it. The museum spaces open to another slack in communication, they develop in a more oxygenated climate; the showrooms allow another laxity in the staging. It is enlightening to reflect on the stagnation of the old cinematographic spectacle, its rites in relation to the spectacular progress of other fields of artistic nature open to an evolution not constrained by different interests. Freedom in cinema consists in trusting the intelligence and solidarity sensitivity of the viewer; there he, so that he becomes interested or refrains from the game, participates in the proposal, accepts complicity or rejects it. From my relative experience I know that cinema will be so much more rewarding, and not only for the viewer, the more he dares to forget about any canonical prescriptive about what can or should be done. It is a way to contribute satisfactorily and freely to increase the sincerity of work.

I don’t know if I’m late for new horizons that I feel splendid. The cinema, better or worse, has allowed itself to survive from a mine that threatens to run out and seems to need renovation. It may not be a matter of economics. I want to continue trusting the collaborating viewer.

Basilio Martín Patino