La Ronde des Hirondelles - Florence Cuschieri
Moving through suspended landscapes, Florence Cuschieri encounters the wandering exiles. In the forests of the Alps, they inscribe their trajectory.
Florence Cuschieri captures these traveled paths, where tangible wandering dissolves into the silence of the surroundings. The mountain, the forest, the fir trees—each becomes a vessel cradling vulnerable exiled bodies who have found refuge at Chez Marcel, a self-managed space in the French Hautes-Alpes near Briançon. The land she photographs appears suspended in a state of latency, echoing the waiting of those who tread upon it. Their footsteps carve circles into the ground, mirroring the swirling flight of swallows.
Original: $47.89
-65%$47.89
$16.76La Ronde des Hirondelles - Florence Cuschieri
Moving through suspended landscapes, Florence Cuschieri encounters the wandering exiles. In the forests of the Alps, they inscribe their trajectory.
Florence Cuschieri captures these traveled paths, where tangible wandering dissolves into the silence of the surroundings. The mountain, the forest, the fir trees—each becomes a vessel cradling vulnerable exiled bodies who have found refuge at Chez Marcel, a self-managed space in the French Hautes-Alpes near Briançon. The land she photographs appears suspended in a state of latency, echoing the waiting of those who tread upon it. Their footsteps carve circles into the ground, mirroring the swirling flight of swallows.
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Description
Moving through suspended landscapes, Florence Cuschieri encounters the wandering exiles. In the forests of the Alps, they inscribe their trajectory.
Florence Cuschieri captures these traveled paths, where tangible wandering dissolves into the silence of the surroundings. The mountain, the forest, the fir trees—each becomes a vessel cradling vulnerable exiled bodies who have found refuge at Chez Marcel, a self-managed space in the French Hautes-Alpes near Briançon. The land she photographs appears suspended in a state of latency, echoing the waiting of those who tread upon it. Their footsteps carve circles into the ground, mirroring the swirling flight of swallows.
