This situation gathers works traversed by a single tension, that of persistence. They do not seek to represent the world but to test how it endures, recomposes, and prolongs itself through its successive breakdowns. Each begins from the same hypothesis: that matter, even when altered, retains the memory of what it has undergone, and that by working it, one might recover the residual pulse of a still-living world.
In Anna Soz, matter becomes a porous organism. Her forms stand between suture and erasure, as if wounding were the only condition for continuity. Her sculptures and drawings evoke an inverted biology in which tissues no longer attempt to heal but to reconfigure themselves. Each fragment breathes slowly, guided by the intuition that repair is not a return to an origin, but a metamorphosis of the sensible.
Arash Nassiri transposes this same energy into the sphere of luminous architectures. His models, animated by optical signals, do not replay a vanished site; they translate the memory of its circulations, its uses, its diffused presences. Space is treated as code, compressed, replayed, suspended between visibility and recollection. These are not miniature ruins, but interfaces of survivance: devices that hold in tension the trace of a world transformed into signal.
With Lucien Murat, persistence becomes slow combustion. Wood, fire, ash: three states of a single breath. His works perform a transmutation of disaster into fertility, of darkness into active matter. They manifest the paradox of the living, which, to perpetuate itself, must sometimes consent to be consumed. For him, fire does not destroy: it reveals what, within matter, never ceases to wish for rebirth.
Nicholas Grafia extends this exploration of the living through the language of bodies and stories. His figures oscillate between appearance and erasure, between shared memory and intimate reconstruction. They speak of belonging, of transmission, of the migration of images and gestures, without ever fixing themselves in a stable identity. His painting functions as a zone of translation, a territory of passages where diasporic narratives and forms of unassignable existence intersect, split, and reinvent themselves within the flow.
Finally, Hyojae Kim opens the field of displacement beyond gravity itself. In Parkour, the body becomes an instrument of listening: it measures distance, tests the resistance of the ground, yet ends up sliding toward other regimes of existence. Movement doubles itself; it traverses the city and the network, the concrete space and its digitized twin. It is no longer a body that acts, but a signal incarnating, a flux that persists by changing state.
Thus unfolds the invisible thread of this situation: a cartography of persistence. Anna Soz opens the skin, Arash Nassiri inscribes light, Lucien Murat burns the ground, Nicholas Grafia lets the voices circulate, Hyojae Kim crosses the void. Five modalities of a single gesture: to refuse disappearance. What their works share is the same obstinacy of the living, to endure in the aftermath, to replay endlessly the conditions of its own emergence. Together they form a common respiration, an ecology of survivances where the world, even in fragments, continues to invent itself through its debris. Each work becomes a relay within this sensitive network, a knot of matter and memory that keeps vibrating even when everything seems silent. Nothing here is closed: everything circulates, everything remains in transit. The passage unfolds between screens and materials, zones of brightness and opaque surfaces. One moves through it as through an organism, following the remanence of images that settle, withdraw, and open again. Each work is a chamber of resonance, a fragment of sensitive skin where the world, still, strives to take shape once more; a zone of transmission where flesh, fire, and signal reconcile within the slow endurance of the real.