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Footnote of a witness to an unimagined amalgamation of an utterly frozen sea into a
floating mass of liquid crystals within a single night, 
2021: Boat varnish on textile, 

Location: Next to the Solkuro beach, Island Örö, Finland

More info:  https://www.ores.fi/project/mirjam-kroker/

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Exhibtion view,  Örö, Finnish Archipelago, ÖRÖ21,
Örö Summerexhibtion, image by Kristian Jalava

This performative research, 'Footnote of a witness to an unimagined amalgamation of an utterly frozen sea into a floating mass of liquid crystals within a single night', exercises footnotes as both an aesthetic and epistemological tool to document landscapes in flux. Installed at sites close to the sea as possible — Örö, an island in the Finnish archipelago and in the peripheral environment of Ferrol in northern Spain—the work unfolds as a footnote that bears witness to ecological transitions, tracing the sea's ephemeral states from solid to liquid, from frozen to unfixed. Drawing on Denise Ferreira da Silva’s call to rethink landscapes through an “onto-epistemological cut,” this proposal frames the sea as more than a physical body to be perceived or measured. Instead, the work acknowledges footnotes to engage the sea as a space of relationality and becoming—a landscape where human, more than human, ecological, and temporal forces intersect without hierarchy. By exercising footnotes, I aim to decentralize the observer and distribute agency throughout the landscape, treating each fragmentary notation as an act of collective, non-extractive vitnessing instead of observation. Each footnote, as it records a moment within the landscape, serves as a reminder of the landscape’s resistance to linear narration. These footnotes are an invitation to observe, to listen, and to engage without the desire to dominate or possess knowledge of the place. Ferreira da Silva’s perspective on entangled existence resonates here, suggesting that to witness a landscape is to participate in its temporality and vulnerability, not to claim understanding but to recognize one’s position within a web of relations. This installation imagines footnotes as fractured landscapes in themselves—points of entry that, when taken together, map a process of becoming, not a static geography. This approach seeks to dissolve the boundaries between observer and landscape, asking: How can we witness without colonizing or extracting meaning? How might the act of witnessing remain in the margins, as a quiet testament to what exceeds representation?

Referential Framework: In situating footnotes as the primary form of documentation, the microintervention speaks to Ferreira da Silva’s challenge of "reading without a subject." Each footnote embodies a gesture toward the sea's autonomy and opacity, an attempt to engage with what lies beyond human comprehension or possession. By locating these “witnessing fragments” at the margins, the project proposes an ethical stance—a resistance to making the landscape fully legible or known, allowing it to remain a “black matter,” a landscape in its own right that resists being “read” in totality. This work resonates with Ferreira da Silva’s critique of epistemic violence, repositioning the sea and landscape not as objects to be observed, but as entities with their own temporal and material agency. The footnotes thereby act as interruptions, fragmented and partial—each one a moment of bearing witness that acknowledges its own insufficiency. Rather than constructing a cohesive narrative, this footnote approach challenges to 'enter' the landscape through layers, to experience it as shifting, moving, and unknowable in its entirety. This becomes a radical act of witnessing, one that aligns according to my understanding alinging with Ferreira da Silva’s assertion that to engage with a landscape is to enter a field of relations rather than a field of observation. Conceptual and Practical Implications: Installed on the fringes of landscapes where the sea and land meet, Footnote of a witness invites to being that encounters it to experience place not as a passive observer but as implicated participants. This is not an exercise in comprehending the landscape but in co-existing with it, allowing to encounter the landscape’s multiple states as a series of dispersed, footnoted events. Each footnote is a micro-witnessing—a record of a moment that, in acknowledging its own marginal position, resists the extractive impulse to "capture" landscape in its entirety. The footnotes thus embody a practice of ethical observation, bearing witness to landscapes that resist narrative closure. They also invite a rethinking of how we document and relate to place. What emerges is a method of “non-capitalizable witnessing,” a series of annotations that seek not to represent but to resonate with the landscape’s inherent temporality and multiplicity. This fragmented witnessing creates a cumulative narrative that embodies a relationship with the landscape that is collaborative, responsive, and deeply implicated in Ferreira da Silva’s idea of “ethical violence.”

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Installation view, 2021, Ferrol, Spain

UNBURY TOMORROW: Against the Normalisation of War is a variable installation
composed of printed micro-essays (multilingual, free for circulation), a portable analogue television
(Tele Star 4004, late 1980s), a telescopic antenna, a white textile, plastic and electricity.

The installation is variable in scale, approximately 250 × 130 × 120 cm.

UNBURY TOMORROW: against the normalisation of war, constitutes the second public occurrence within
Chimeric Embassy of Cosmic Concerns (2025–2028), a semi-nomadic research project initiated by Mirjam Kroker.
The project unfolds through invitations from institutional, semi-institutional, and independent spaces,
forming temporary assemblies and shared inquiries.

UNBURY TOMORROW: against the normalisation of war unfolds from the recognition that war is not an exceptional rupture of order, but a recurrent power logic through which order itself is produced and maintained. Historically, war has structured the world through cycles of conquest, destruction, repair, reconstruction, and renewed militarisation. These cycles are reproductive. They generate infrastructures, industries, political vocabularies, and aesthetic regimes that stabilise power while rendering violence necessary, manageable, and legitimate.

Within this logic, war does not need to declare itself. It operates as an atmospheric condition—shaping perception, affect, and time. Its visual languages are deeply sedimented: images of damage, restoration, resilience, and post-conflict repair circulate with strong aesthetic force. Contemporary art and critical practices are not outside this economy; they are often drawn into reproducing its grammars, even when opposing its outcomes.

UNBURY TOMORROW does not seek to counter this condition with alternative images or representations. Instead, it acknowledges the persistence of this power logic and withdraws from its modes of production. The work refuses the aesthetic operations through which war renders itself intelligible, 'attractive', and culturally operative. The installation consists of multiple elements arranged horizontally. None of them functions as a centre. This lack of hierarchy is deliberate. Centrality reassures; it stabilises meaning. It mirrors the logics of targeting, focus, and command that structure militarised perception. By refusing a centre, the work resists the comfort of orientation and the expectation that meaning must be anchored in a dominant object.

A portable analogue television, Tele Star 4004, is present among the elements. Designed for terrestrial signal reception, the device no longer receives any broadcast. Its screen flickers continuously, producing electronic noise without legible image. The words UNBURY TOMORROW are handwritten directly onto the glass surface. This flicker is not an absence of image, but an image rendered unreadable. The refusal to repair or replace interrupts the familiar cycle of damage and restoration—a cycle deeply aligned with the temporal logic of war, in which destruction is followed by repair, reconciliation, and renewed violence. By remaining unresolved, the device withdraws from productivity, resolution, and narrative completion.

Attached to the television’s telescopic antenna is a white cloth. The configuration frequently evokes the image of a flag. This reading is neither accidental nor corrected. It functions as a moment of exposure. The immediacy with which the cloth is perceived as a flag reveals how deeply perception is trained by sovereign and militarised aesthetics—how quickly fabric, elevation, and visibility are associated with territory, allegiance, and security politics. The cloth, however, is not a flag. The antenna is not a flagpole. The antenna no longer receives signals; it does not transmit messages or claim ground. It has been repurposed into a support without function or designation. In this misrecognition, viewers might encounter their own habituation to the aesthetic value of power and the visual attraction of war’s ordering forms.

Equally present are the micro-essays, printed in Spanish, English, and Spanglish, and currently being translated into Arabic and Hebrew. These texts are made available for free circulation. They do not explain the installation. They move alongside it.

Their circulation from hand to hand, rather than from screen to screen, follows a different historical logic of transmission. Hand-to-hand circulation is slow, contingent, and relational. It depends on proximity and trust rather than speed, scalability, or control. It resists the militarised infrastructures of contemporary media, which privilege surveillance, optimisation, and algorithmic reach. The texts do not produce visibility metrics, data traces, or stable archives. Circulation here is understood as companionship rather than dissemination.

UNBURY TOMORROW does not name an alternative condition or offer a reconciliatory horizon. Instead, it opens a field of questioning:


How might perception be loosened from militarised habits of seeing?
How might language be relieved from the pressure to justify, secure, or stabilise?
How might one begin to live otherwise, without transforming uncertainty too quickly into answers?

These questions are not posed from a position of certainty. They are part of the work’s own hesitation. The installation does not instruct; it attends. It remains with the difficulty of recognition, with the unease of not knowing how interruption might look or feel.

In this sense, UNBURY TOMORROW operates as an insurrection at the level of perception—not through confrontation, but through attentiveness. An insurrection that does not overthrow, but subtly disorients; that does not declare, but circulates; that does not resolve, but stays present with the conditions that make resolution appear necessary.

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