{"id":29120,"date":"2026-09-18T18:19:31","date_gmt":"2026-09-18T17:19:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hangar.com.pt\/?p=29120"},"modified":"2026-09-18T19:49:35","modified_gmt":"2026-09-18T18:49:35","slug":"after-us-there-will-be-a-horizon-for-the-new-birds","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hangar.com.pt\/en\/after-us-there-will-be-a-horizon-for-the-new-birds\/","title":{"rendered":"After us there will be a horizon for the new birds"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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30 Sep 2026 – 30 Jan 2027<\/strong>
17:00-21:00 \/ thursday to saturday<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Phoebe Boswell<\/strong>
curated by Ren\u00e9e Mussai<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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A gathering, a summoning, perhaps a reckoning also, after us there will be a horizon for the new birds <\/em>blackens the gallery, cordons off its entrance to visitors, covers its floor with sand, and buoys its walls with hand-drawn visions of bird-bodies in motion and in stillness, in flight and at rest.<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n
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Struck by an uncanny primordial, transcendent and communal power permeating from a congregation of seagulls witnessed on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean during a fleeting research visit to Lisbon\u2019s suburban \/ coastal dwellings in August 2026, artist Phoebe Boswell and curator Ren\u00e9e Mussai sat in Caf\u00e9 Ni\u2019lin, a Palestinian restaurant inside Hangar, and contemplated what it means to make work in close proximity to\u2014and in solidarity with\u2014this site of intimate yet powerful resistance, in the midst of an ongoing genocide. The restaurant, architecturally separated from the gallery by latticed security grilles, but sharing air and space and sound, takes its name from a Palestinian village globally recognised for its sustained history of organised community activism and non-violent protest. Situated in the West Bank, it has been subjected to Israeli military occupation since 1967.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The work holds vigil to a temporal world, heavy with acute and global mourning, multiple genocides, climate catastrophe, capitalism\u2019s degradation of land and community, rising neo-fascism and a relentless climate of anti-blackness. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Expanding the artist\u2019s ongoing investigation of kinship, love and liberation sanctuaries through and beyond the underwater worlds of her recent work, the \u2018non-gallery\u2019 experience invites a curtailed reflection on dis\/placement and occupation, migration and movement\u2014a mediation on porous conceptions of diasporic consciousness and be\/longing, personal and collective liberations, centred in the enduring image of the sea as a living site of memory; her waves carrying myriad journeys, yearnings and healings.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The installation posits at once an offence, a refusal, and an invitation: it does not grant entry to its immersive folds, but asks visitors to observe from the vantage point of Caf\u00e9 Ni\u2019lin\u2019s interior: to contemplate through a barrier\u2014a blockade\u2014-and to attend to the exhibition\u2019s black register, softly summoning echoes toward new horizons at a time of deep precarity.
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The exhibition borrows its title from the resonant, sanguine closing line of the poem \u2018Here the Birds’ Journey Ends\u2019 (2008) by Mahmoud Darwish, deployed here as both invocation and declaration.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Phoebe Boswell, Between Love and Loss Where We Might Glean Things, <\/em>
Charcoal and pastel on paper, 2018<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Phoebe Boswell, We Can Laugh, and Shriek, and Grow Wings, <\/em>
Charcoal and pastel on paper, 2018<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
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