Nicolás Suárez

A home movie in the ruins of modern architecture. A arborescent stream of consciousness that gloats over one of the most elementary cinematic mysteries—the thrill of discovering a secret.

A home movie in the ruins of modern architecture. A arborescent stream of consciousness that gloats over one of the most elementary cinematic mysteries—the thrill of discovering a secret.

A home movie in the ruins of modern architecture. A arborescent stream of consciousness that gloats over one of the most elementary cinematic mysteries—the thrill of discovering a secret.

A home movie in the ruins of modern architecture. A arborescent stream of consciousness that gloats over one of the most elementary cinematic mysteries—the thrill of discovering a secret.

A home movie in the ruins of modern architecture. A arborescent stream of consciousness that gloats over one of the most elementary cinematic mysteries—the thrill of discovering a secret.

An experienced fisherman is hired to try to find something that, apparently, is simply a fantasy installed in society.

The annual short film competition for directors organized and produced by INCAA presents eight new works.

The ghosts of a 19th-century slaughterhouse haunt the Cinemateca Brasileira: where cows once died, films now end up. Montevideo's former Central Market houses the Cinemateca Uruguaya. A power plant now houses the Museo de Cine de Buenos Aires. This triptych portrays and connects three film archives through architecture and the buildings' interaction with urban life.

Sometimes the links can be built from the passions. Sometimes those links can become passions. For Hugo, a solitary taxi driver from Buenos Aires, the total, absolute and exclusive passion is San Lorenzo, which is not only an active part of his past, but a healthy obsession that bathes that gives color to his life. Until a single mother and her son cross their path. Now there will be someone to share the passion with. Maybe something more.

In Argentine mythology, the gaucho holds a significant cultural position. The gaucho descends from the union between the indigenous population and Iberian immigrants. Gauchos adopted the Indígenas’ approach to livestock farming and are always associated with horses and vast open plains. The drama occurs when the brother falls from a horse and can no longer be saved. Man and horse become one, for a short moment. Then he draws a knife and revenge violates the idyll: An eye for an eye, a man for a beast. Fire burns on the street, the gaucho mounts his horse and revenge runs its course. The mythical realm overflows into the realm of reality.

Sometimes the links can be built from the passions. Sometimes those links can become passions. For Hugo, a solitary taxi driver from Buenos Aires, the total, absolute and exclusive passion is San Lorenzo, which is not only an active part of his past, but a healthy obsession that bathes that gives color to his life. Until a single mother and her son cross their path. Now there will be someone to share the passion with. Maybe something more.

In Argentine mythology, the gaucho holds a significant cultural position. The gaucho descends from the union between the indigenous population and Iberian immigrants. Gauchos adopted the Indígenas’ approach to livestock farming and are always associated with horses and vast open plains. The drama occurs when the brother falls from a horse and can no longer be saved. Man and horse become one, for a short moment. Then he draws a knife and revenge violates the idyll: An eye for an eye, a man for a beast. Fire burns on the street, the gaucho mounts his horse and revenge runs its course. The mythical realm overflows into the realm of reality.

Letters, photos, furniture, hats, pipes, combs, eyeglasses, pens, pen holders, infinite books. An inventory of all, almost all, or simply some of the things that rest in the neocolonial house of a man whose name was Ricardo Rojas and who, one hundred years ago, wrote a delirious book called Eurindia.

Letters, photos, furniture, hats, pipes, combs, eyeglasses, pens, pen holders, infinite books. An inventory of all, almost all, or simply some of the things that rest in the neocolonial house of a man whose name was Ricardo Rojas and who, one hundred years ago, wrote a delirious book called Eurindia.

Letters, photos, furniture, hats, pipes, combs, eyeglasses, pens, pen holders, infinite books. An inventory of all, almost all, or simply some of the things that rest in the neocolonial house of a man whose name was Ricardo Rojas and who, one hundred years ago, wrote a delirious book called Eurindia.

The ghosts of a 19th-century slaughterhouse haunt the Cinemateca Brasileira: where cows once died, films now end up. Montevideo's former Central Market houses the Cinemateca Uruguaya. A power plant now houses the Museo de Cine de Buenos Aires. This triptych portrays and connects three film archives through architecture and the buildings' interaction with urban life.