BARBARA CAPPONI / BABAS

We draw maps of the world as a guide for travellers, as if the world were to remain the same. We know it changes, and yet we measure the planet: we capture it on paper, with a certain degree of approximation. An approximation suited to human life: on a scale with us in space and time.
The map of Lake Como changes more slowly than the lake itself; but, for us, it works. For a creature living a hundred thousand of our years, it would merely be a snapshot of a fleeting moment.
The planet is composed of infinite planets in perpetual flux. We draw maps of its evanescence.
Everything is relative. Mountains are the earth’s waves, moving ever so slowly. Clouds are continents of water and ice, on a perpetual journey. Lakes appear, grow and dry up, following the breath of the glaciers. Rivers change course; cities are born, transform and fade away over the centuries and millennia.
A drop of water is a universe containing a multitude of creatures and stories, and a puddle is someone else’s lake. A lake of more limited size, of shorter life; yet it has shores and islands and beaches and reflections and creatures living on its banks and, with a bit of luck, it has a sunset.

The Ephemeral Atlas invites us to appreciate the planet’s fleeting splendour.
It does so through a video, filmed in various parts of the Mediterranean basin, and through a collection of maps. The maps were drawn by Giulia De Amicis based on photographs I took of microscopic panoramas – phenomena lasting but a moment – and show the actual geographical coordinates.
It is a paradoxical undertaking: whilst the video draws us into the movement and flow of becoming, with a slow rhythm that makes us lose our bearings between the microcosm and the macrocosm, the maps surrounding it do exactly the opposite, capturing and freezing what lasts only a moment. But it does not matter if it is only a moment: it happened.