ENTANGLED EXCHANGES: EXPLORING TRANSACTIONS BEYOND THE ECONOMIC SPHERE
BY TEODORA ROȘU
BY TEODORA ROȘU
Instances of exchange have permeated daily human activities for centuries. Yet, transitioning from communal land use to private ownership marked a pivotal shift towards the capitalist chain that now dominates our modern era. Today, we are so accustomed to understanding transactions as monetary exchanges that we struggle to imagine an alternative to such commodified transfers. Of course, these financial affairs were only invented to construct a certain kind of, desired, world. But, while the world is boiling past the limits of its tipping point — both literally and metaphorically — it's crucial that we think outside of the box imposed by capitalist systems of thought.
The idea of intra-action, which draws from quantum physics and feminist theory, is a helpful, underlying concept to such alternative thinking. Unlike the traditional understanding of an interaction, where separate entities are assumed to exist before they interact, intra-action recognizes that distinct identities form through their encounters with one another. While every transaction affects the parties involved in some way, intra-action emphasizes the new meanings and transformations that emerge as a result of reciprocal exchanges. In order to move past the established understanding of transactions as merely monetary exchanges, we have to consider how these acts shape our common worlds. Transactions are not solely about the transfer of capital; they are integral to the entire process of world-making.
With this in mind, I began my collaboration with Stol Collective. Including artists Anio, Ioana, Mara, and Marco, this collective is dedicated to creating socially engaged projects that challenge conventional notions of ecology. By paying attention to our relationships with the more-than-human beings that we coexist with, Stol Collective seeks to create new, non-normative, narratives about the world we inhabit. Their artistic projects serve as a powerful lens, revealing the intricate layers of intra-actions that shape our relationships between humans and non-humans, alongside our understandings of these relationships. My decision to work with them was straightforward, as we shared a common ambition: challenging the established systems of thought and forms of transaction embedded in our modern culture and society.
Making the case for the companion species
Reflecting on the tension between nature and culture within urban landscapes, Marco suggested we work with pigeons, whose place in the world is highly contested. For me, it was already a provoking subject; I realized that I was one of those internalized anthropocentrists who saw pigeons as a nuisance. Yet, after Stol Collective proposed working with them, I recognized that my aversion to these birds—who are always trying to nest on my balcony—could be transformed into a critique of a broader, Western, system, which designs cities and guides residents in ways that position pigeons as intruders.
In order to explore how the relationship between pigeons and humans has shaped our shared world, I needed to trace how this relationship gradually developed. Delving into the history of pigeons led me to question why so many of us harbor such disdain for an animal that was once so close to us: pigeons were honored in many ancient and modern religions, they were among the first domesticated animals, predating even dogs, and they served as a food resource before chickens. While many of us remember pigeons as merely the first messengers, they were also highly reliable and vital forms of military communication, used as far back as the Roman Empire. After WWII, Winston Churchill awarded 32 pigeons the Dickin Medal, honoring their contributions to the war. What surprises me most is not just the governmental recognition of pigeons’ abilities, but the ways these abilities have been weaponized. Project Pigeon, a lesser-known WWII initiative, trained pigeons to peck at an electromagnetic screen, in turn guiding missiles to their targets. Fun fact: the screens these pigeons were pecking were the precursors of the smartphone touch screens we slouch over today.
Pigeons are companion species, active participants in the development of human civilization. But, even though pigeons were once humanity’s closest partners, eurocentric thought eventually marked them as inconveniences, becoming annoyed by their presence in the urban landscape. Our transactions—or rather, our intra-actions—with pigeons have shifted over time, from mutual reliance and coexistence to a more detached and adversarial relationship, reflecting broader changes in how we engage with the non-human world.
Through investigating the roots of our prejudice against pigeons, I discovered Jerolmack's research on the development of the "pigeon problem". This “problem” seems to stem more from a certain ingrained perception of the world, rather than from any actual harm pigeons cause. As Western societies built cities amidst nature, they conceived these concrete structures as sterile, isolated spaces, where natural elements could be controlled and tamed to their liking. Cities were intended and designed for humans, so any wilderness found within had to be eradicated. But, this wasn't always the case.
Jerolmack analyzed 155 years of New York Times publications, revealing how the narrative surrounding pigeons has evolved—from prohibiting the sport of shooting pigeons, as it was considered a “moral outrage”, to eliminating them by the hundreds in an effort to ‘protect’ human health. Such narratives evolved into the derogatory term "rats with wings", which reflects "a cultural anxiety about disorder and a deeply felt need for a sanitized city”.
Yet, in our modern, estranged times, communities of pigeon fanciers have prevailed, united by their passion for these birds. We were drawn to these dynamics, eager to learn more about those who maintain close connections with pigeons. These relationships seemed to embody an alternative form of transaction—intra-actions rooted in care, stewardship, and mutual respect, rather than the detached, transactional relationships that, today, often characterize our interactions with the natural world. Following Stol Collective's methodology, we began by exploring specific, seemingly relevant spaces and relationships, documenting both the landscapes that pigeons populate and the tight-knit communities of pigeon fanciers. Romania, we discovered, has a significant community of pigeon fanciers who regularly participate in races.
Pigeons Racing for a Place in the World
Pigeon racing, which began in Belgium in 1818, has captivated many, including Ialcin—a passionate advocate of the sport. We contacted him on short notice, but he made time for us as he was confident that we had found the right person. His son, also a pigeon racer, invited us to join him one early morning to wait for the pigeons to return from their practice. Released 80 km away, the birds began to return at 8:20 a.m., slightly later than expected. Ialcin and his son spoke about their pigeons as though they were professional athletes, emphasizing the intense interspecies relationship they share; the pigeons must be constantly motivated, but in return, they provide immense, therapeutic, relaxation to their keepers.
Ialcin was determined to introduce his son to pigeon fancying, seeing it as an ideal escape from the harmful temptations of the modern world. He wanted his son to be surrounded by a worthy entourage, away from the potentially destructive paths led by drugs and alcohol. Andrei received his first pigeons as a child, and his interest has only grown since. It's not a pursuit intended for profit— while prize money can be earned from winning races, making a living off of pigeon racing is rare and often requires several generations to build a reputation, raise ‘capable’ birds, and accumulate wealth over time.
The story of racing pigeons, as told by Ialcin and his son, is one of mutual recognition and satisfaction; though it’s a time-consuming industry, to them, it gives back far more than it takes. Despite the fact that only 20-30% of the pigeons remain with them after a good year, the bond between these birds and their keepers seems profound.
Thinking about the 70-80% of birds who do not make it home every year, the number of pigeons found throughout cities starts to raise questions. Ialcin explains that weaker pigeons are less likely to return from a race - yet, he is glad when this happens, as it makes more space to breed the others at a higher level. Through an unintentional transaction between the pigeon racer and the urban environment, these "failing" pigeons become outcasts. In search of a new home and family, they perfectly blend in with the urban pigeon population. The only difference is the care they’ve received; while Andrei says that he provides his pigeons with the best food and conditions in order to get the best performance out of them, city pigeons have to adapt to scarce sources of care, though without the conditional expectations that come with being a domesticated racer pigeon. The care provided by the racers is meant to be reciprocated through the pigeons’ performance, much like how the racers’ monetary investment–through purchasing these pigeons–is returned through the race prizes that come out of their devoted training.
Clearly, pigeons are not entirely exempt from the economic system of our capitalist era. In this sport, pigeons are commodified goods, which are bought, bred, and sold based on their performance. Ialcin tells us that a pigeon’s pupil size indicates its potential for good results in racings, while those with smaller pupils tend to make it home more often. That’s why - we finally understood - the websites that sell pigeons for racings display their eyes almost as big as their body size.
He also explains how the pink in their mouth and on their belly are active indicators of good health. In the context of racings, pigeons are seen more as products with specific qualities to shop for, rather than simply imposing dwellers, as they are within the urban scenery. Although there is an inherent monetary component to this dynamic, the transaction between pigeon racers and pigeons is also emotional.
When visiting the club and meeting other pigeon fanciers with Ialcin, they all validated the pigeons' ability to disconnect them from the stressors, agitations, and technologies of daily life. Pigeon fanciers engage in numerous non-monetary transactions with their avian partners, forming deep, relational bonds. Their admiration for the pigeons' intelligence is immense, and they have come to realize that the problem in cities is not the pigeons, but humans themselves—having invaded their space, we are the true culprits. We further discovered how the pigeons facilitate human interactions; the community of fanciers has become a family in itself. After Ialcin gifted a new racer his first three pigeons, one of them triumphed over a mondial champion, a result that amazed all, demonstrating how transactions among racers take the form of knowledge-sharing, passion, and trust.
The sport cultivates adrenaline and excitement, often turning into a game of chance as pigeons surprise their keepers with their performance, fostering their partnership. It is precisely this form of intra-action between humans and pigeons that allows the sport of pigeon racing to persist, as the relationships built through care, exchange, and mutual engagement sustain its existence.
They also mentioned how the women in the community often achieve the best results, prompting us to consider how gender may influence one’s relationship with pigeons. In our search for pigeon enthusiasts, we encountered two women who rescued them from the streets and kept them as pets, nurturing genuine connections, as opposed to training them for racing. This observation raises intriguing questions about how race, gender, and age might impact the relationships formed with pigeons. Women, for example, may adopt more nurturing roles, while other groups may approach pigeon care through utilitarian lenses. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the opportunity to talk with them to better understand how different factors influence this dynamic further.
Intra-actions come to matter
While the stories of pigeon fanciers fascinated us, we also wanted to explore the lives of feral pigeons throughout the city. We often see the smiling faces of those who feed them in the park, despite signs forbidding the activity. Throughout cities, no one is incentivized to feed pigeons, it’s done as a reward for the simple act of showing up. Feral pigeons don’t have an ‘owner’, but rather, an urban community that offers them food in public squares, parks, or outside of their home windows.
People offer pigeons bread and water out of the desire for an emotional connection or a sense of contribution, without expecting much in return. This is a prime example of intra-action, where the encounters between humans and pigeons create distinct identities and contribute to the resilience of both species. By blending seamlessly into daily life, these reciprocal exchanges highlight the importance of non-monetary transactions in sustaining and enriching our shared spaces. For this reason, we felt the need to explore the dynamics between feral pigeons and urban environments a bit more.
One morning, we visited the most pigeon-populated area in central Bucharest. Armed with food, we ventured into the heart of the city and fed the pigeons directly from our hands. It was an intimate and revealing experience that underscored just how accustomed these birds are to human presence. Their comfort was most evident when Anio managed to persuade some pigeons to perch delicately on her hand, lured by the simple offering of food. This interaction sparked a cascade of ideas about how we could facilitate more meaningful exchanges between people and pigeons.
Initially, we played with the concept of designing a structure specifically for transacting food with pigeons, aiming to create a deliberate and symbolic image. During our brainstorming, we stumbled upon the curious, historical anecdote of Nikola Tesla’s deep affection for a pigeon—a connection so profound that it inspired us to consider a speculative, fictional narrative in which Tesla marries a community of pigeons. This idea, while whimsical, served as a catalyst for thinking about how we might engage with pigeons in a way that transcends mere human-animal interactions and, instead, moves toward a shared act of world-making.
We noticed the beautiful visual patterns they create by perching on large advertising billboards, and even found ourselves intrigued by the aesthetics of their manure. We considered exploring this aesthetic further—reflecting on the concept of dirt, as Mara suggested—by designing t-shirts with patterns inspired by pigeon droppings. However, orchestrating such designs proved challenging; designing a space where pigeons would sit long enough to create the desired patterns seemed difficult, if not impossible.
Our discussions led us to explore playful approaches, such as the classic game of tic-tac-toe. We enacted a scenario where Mara and Ioana played this game by placing food in designated squares, allowing the pigeons to 'play' by consuming the food in those areas. Once the pigeons had finished eating, they would mark the squares, recording the pigeons' choices. While this encounter was intriguing, it didn’t feel as dynamic as we had hoped. The pigeons, after all, were simply following our lead, with no agency in the game itself. Even though we managed to interact with them in a quite appealing way, the interaction didn’t culminate with an act of co-creation. Yet, the outcome—a draw—struck us as a potent metaphor for our complex and unresolved relationship with these birds. In a society deeply entrenched in hegemonic structures that encourage us to distance ourselves from the “other", whether human or non-human, this unresolved relationship with pigeons reflects broader societal issues. For this reason, we focused on facilitating a playful kind of interaction which fostered an active, joyful intra-action, from which all parties would benefit and shape each other.
Inspired by the idea of using games as a medium for interplay, we next considered the possibility of involving pigeons in a soccer match. We imagined the birds chasing after a ball covered in seeds, contributing to a light-hearted and engaging spectacle. However, reality quickly tempered our expectations—the pigeons were terrified by the ball’s movement, leading to an unexpected twist where the game became one of keeping the ball as still as possible. Contrary to our intuitions, the movement of the ball, triggered by their perching on it, made them fly away from the source of food. This experience was a humbling reminder that attempting to impose human frameworks onto other species often falls short. Instead, pigeons’ natural behaviors can teach us valuable lessons about cohabitation and respecting the autonomy of non-human beings.
In an effort to empower the pigeons, Anio then had the idea to craft a sculpture from clay, embedding seeds within the still-wet material. The vision was to invite the pigeons to interact with the sculpture, thereby co-creating a piece of art with us. This concept excited us, as it represented a true act of intra-action, where the deliberate contributions of both human and pigeon would shape the final artwork. Our curiosity was aroused by the unknown, as we all wondered how the pigeons would alter the sculptures.
Our first step in this process was to mold a face in clay, emphasizing the fact that pigeons have a remarkable ability to recognize and remember human faces. We were committed to trusting the creative process, allowing the final outcome to emerge organically from our collective efforts and the pigeons’ participation. Once our masks were complete, we brought them outside, placing them in an open space for the pigeons to discover. Over two rounds, the birds eagerly fed on the seeds embedded in the masks, gradually eroding the sculptures, puncturing them with their beaks and claws. The act of destruction was as significant as the act of creation, a symbol of the transient nature of our interactions and the ever-shifting dynamics between humans and pigeons. At the same time, it fostered a non-monetary transaction, in which we actively transacted food for the pigeons implicated in our artistic effort. They were fed 7 bags of seeds in the process of our project.
This collaborative venture culminated in a striking sculptural piece, featuring five faces layered with expressive detail. Rather than using iridescent materials or colorful glazes, the sculpture adopted a more haunting and abstract form, resonating with urban surrealism. By placing the artwork in an open space, where the birds could feed upon the seeds served within it, we aimed to create a provocative image of pigeons perched on public sculptures. Contrary to our expectations, the pigeons showed no interest in the seeds or the sculpture itself. Despite this, the artwork still provoked a visual commentary on the presence of pigeons in cities. The scarecrow-like figure stood as a bizarre, symbolic guardian over the flock, embodying the complex and often unreciprocated relationship between humans and urban wildlife. We see people feed them, yet perceive them as giving nothing back, a reflection of our deformed expectations of nature's 'value' in transactional terms.
The presence of pigeons around the figure became a metaphor in itself, challenging our preconceived notions of how non-human actors would respond to art designed for interaction. The piece ultimately symbolizes the broader tension between efforts to remove pigeons from urban spaces, and an often unacknowledged desire to create spaces where these birds are accepted. More than just an art object, this piece highlights the often overlooked dynamics of cohabitation, suggesting that attempts to engineer interactions with non-human life are not always predictable. This project continues to challenge dominant ecological narratives, encouraging a reflection on the limits of human intervention in fostering genuine intra-species relationships.
Moreover, Marco’s approach to documentary photography, blending a fashion-like aesthetic with a keen, observational eye, transformed the pigeons into subjects of celebration. His manner of shooting with flash lights, typically used to capture the allure of high fashion, shifts the pigeons from their usual portrayal as urban misfits into beings worthy of admiration. The deliberate use of composition elevates these often dismissed creatures, emphasizing their textures, forms, and movements in ways that provoke awe. In doing so, the photographs not only redefine the visual narrative surrounding pigeons, but also critique the cultural biases that label them as dirty, unwanted, and insignificant. The pigeons, usually relegated to the margins of urban life, are here given center stage, their presence cherished rather than ignored. In transforming how pigeons are seen—from symbols of urban decay to icons of beauty—Marco’s work provides space for reimagining the relationships between humans, animals, and the urban environment. Through his photographs, pigeons are no longer passive or invisible, but active participants in the fabric of city life.
Our exploration of the intricate relationships between humans and pigeons highlights the profound and multifaceted nature of these interactions. Through both monetary and emotional transactions, we have seen how pigeon racing and urban feeding practices create a web of reciprocal exchanges that transcend mere utility. The emotional bonds formed by the simple act of feeding pigeons, or the dedicated care involved in racing, illustrate a deeper connection that enhances both human well-being and the lives of the pigeons themselves. These interactions reveal how the human capacity for empathy and care can foster significant bonds, challenging conventional perceptions and encouraging a more compassionate understanding of our coexistence with pigeons.
This social experiment could be expanded upon, offering promising avenues for further inquiry and engagement with pigeons. Exploring the dynamics between feral pigeons and urban settings reveals how these interactions are integral to maintaining and supporting urban wildlife, offering a deeper understanding of the role such relationships play in the broader process of world-making. These efforts can cultivate a greater recognition of pigeons, shifting their status from urban outcasts to valued participants in our shared environment. Ultimately, such explorations contribute to a broader dialogue on human-animal interactions, offering new insights into the ways we can co-create meaningful, respectful, and harmonious connections with the more-than-human world.
Working with Stol Collective has been a journey marked by trust—both in each other, in the pigeons, and in the process itself. This collaborative approach ensured that each step, no matter how tentative or experimental, contributed to a larger narrative that would unfold in due time. My collaboration with them has illuminated the myriad of ways that interactions shape, and are shaped by, the world we all share. By playing with the notion of transaction and challenging the commodification of exchange, we opened up new possibilities for understanding and appreciating the deep connections that bind us to the more-than-human world. This project has pushed us to reconsider what it means to be in relation with another species, and to challenge the societal norms that dictate how these relationships should unfold. Following the lead of Donna Haraway’s Companion Species Manifesto, we employed a critical lens through which we viewed pigeons not just as pests, but as significant others who actively participate in shaping the shared world we inhabit.
As we were delighted by our exploration of these entangled exchanges, we remained committed to pushing the boundaries of thought and practice, creating spaces where alternative narratives can flourish and where the other—whether human or non-human—can find their rightful place in the world. The journey is far from over, and the lessons learned along the way continue to inform our understanding of the world and our place within it. New ideas for fostering relationships, and ways of transacting, with pigeons keep emerging and driving our collaboration forward.
The project is still a work-in-progress, and it will likely conclude in a speculative-documentary film that stitches together the materials we've filmed and gathered throughout this process. As we’ve documented every phase of this journey, the final film will weave together our interactions with pigeons, the creative interventions we’ve made, and the evolving dynamics between the human and non-human worlds. Keep an eye on the Bebe Magazine website to follow along and witness how our project unfolds.
IN CONVERSATION
WITH
STOL COLLECTIVE
STOL COLLECTIVE
While we were molding the masks for the pigeons to peck on, I sat down with Stol Collective to discuss the origins of their practice and the philosophy driving their artistic endeavors. In this dialogue, we explored how they transact ideas, inspiration, and creative energy, as well as the objectives that shape their engagement with both human and more-than-human communities. This conversation offers a deeper insight into the processes behind their work, revealing the collective's commitment to fostering new ways of relating to the world and those we share it with.
TEODORA: Mention one project made by a person in the collective that you appreciate.
IOANA: Let me start. I really like the book that Marco made recently. In general, I like Marco's work a lot lately. I mean, I liked it all the time, but I like the vision that is developing now and I think this book grasps this vision really well.
MARCO: I understand, and this new vision, speaking of transaction, is influenced by working here in the studio.
MARA: I liked the technique that Anio did when we just started in this studio. She started to make objects with wax poured in water and I liked it.
MARCO: I liked Mara's graduation project, Hay Fever. More than the individual works, I liked the fact that there was a strong feeling of connection between the works. I mean, I understood very clearly how they were connected. And I liked that a lot. And about Ioana, again the Graduation project, I liked a lot that the stop-motion was made with objects found somewhere. There is a museum of communist antiquities in Timisoara and the stop-motion was made with objects found there. Which I find very cool, because it has this thing of meeting the outside, which I find important in art, as a response to the tendency to be the artist locked in himself, who works out of his own madness.
ANIO: I find it important that she went outside the comfort zone to do it. I mean, she went alone in Timișoara, in a new place, she had to ask for help. I also wanted to talk about their graduation projects, but more through the prism of the fact that a lot of people say that they confuse you and confuse your work. And I think that even if you use the same mediums, you have reached a moment in which you are very different individuals and you have a very different practice from my point of view. I think that you are completely different and this is very visible in the installations you made at the end of college.
TEODORA: So, how did the collective form in the first place?
IOANA: I think that, actually, the idea of creating a collective started before we moved back to Romania. It was a very old idea, somehow. I remember this moment, when we were sitting at the table and you were visiting us in England. You told me it’d be super cool if me and Mara came back to Romania and started doing something together with you and Anio.
MARCO: Oh yeah, that was it. I had a discussion with Anio, that it would be cool to do this thing together. After that, we were going to the UK and I was thinking, how do I introduce this to the girls as a cool alternative, because I knew you were finishing college and were in that moment of, “ok, I finished college, what do I do now?” And somehow, I didn't want to put pressure either, but at the same time, I wanted to make a convincing case.
MARA: And at that point, I was talking to Marco and I was like “I don't know, I cannot be committed, because I don't know if I want to go back in the first place”. I didn't know if I wanted to go back to Romania,. but, I ended up returning.… It’s a very family thing, in a way. I mean, Marco and Anio have been together for a long time and, naturally, started collaborating on projects, Ioana and I were working together anyway, and me and Marco are brothers.
IOANA: We are also friends. It was very organic.
MARA: That's how it was formed. And, after that, we talked about making an association so we could get funds. And we did that. When we did the project “Here was once a field”, we didn't have the association yet.
MARCO: But, later we included it in this framework, as being a project made by us as a collective. When we started, we just did it, like a collaboration between artists.
MARA: And Ioana and I both had a duo, it was called Hora, which we somehow dissolved when we made Stol, because we didn’t want to create confusion.
IOANA: I mean, it didn't make sense anymore. Who Mara and I are, who Stol is, who each individual is, is a bit confusing.
TEODORA: And, why Stol?
IOANA: We were thinking of something that would involve this idea of togetherness.
MARA: Yes, and we liked Stol because it makes a reference to animals, and we kind of had this interest in the non-human. And, we also liked that it has something to do with migration, this idea of crossing borders. Migration is something that unites us, as we all have this experience of people who have moved out and then returned to Romania. And, how can I say, this going back and forth. That's why Stol was better than other group names, because it was related to movement. We had an option to use Cuib, but it had a different connotation, it’s something you’re nesting in, it’s a more closed thing, somehow. The movement is better.
TEODORA: What are your main sources of inspiration and how do they manifest in your projects?
MARA: It seems to me that we are all interested in many things. I mean, we're people who can be interested in anything, I guess. But, clearly each of us has some preferences. We’ve ended up doing a lot of things that have to do with ecology and the non-human somehow, because we are all interested in it. Ioana and I especially use this as a theme in our art practice. Marco is very interested in marginalized people, which somehow connects quite well with the non-human, in the sense that it's about this human ideal, and after that, it's everything that exists outside, which is animalized, somehow...
MARCO: Yes, or examples of failures, of unfulfilled desires.. In the ecology aspect, you have the natural ecosystems, but after that, you also have all the bureaucratic and technological infrastructures, which create repopulation breeders, or preservation laws, or systems for people to decide that the ecosystem is worth preserving. For example, when we did the project with dogs, I thought it was curious that the field on the outskirts of Bucharest is considered a non-ecosystem, that is a “free space”, which, in fact, does not exist. There is no free space, there is an environment, there are certain species, plants, non-human populations, but somehow from this human perspective is not seen in this way.
MARA: Even though, now, our working method is still developing, I think it has a clear anthropological aspect, in the sense that we're always looking to meet other people, to go to locations, and understand something about a story from a particular place, and then respond in diverse, creative ways. With Marco, it's more straightforward, because he really is into documentary material, but he still transposes it afterwards into a personal universe. I mean, it's not that kind of classic documentary.
MARCO: Yes, it's not photojournalism. But, I think that going there, actually, that's a point that really unites us, that going there is important for everyone.
IOANA: Personally, I feel I come more from the perspective of the non-human, animals, non-human animals. I mean, I feel like that's the driving force.
TEODORA: Then, let's talk about transactions.
IOANA: It seems to me that the whole transaction concept can be very easily put into an ecological framework, because any ecology is full of transactions. It's actually a system of relationships, sort of. And relationships of exchange. The most interesting thing about the transaction term is that it's generally seen with this negative framework, and clearly monetary in a way. When, at the same time, when you apply it to any other framework, like an ecological one, and you see how transactions help the functioning of a system, really.
ANIO: And, I also find the idea of parasitic relationships or symbiotic relationships very interesting to be explored.
MARA: Yes, and also there is this perspective that if you think about love, you have the idea of unconditional love, where it's not conditioned by anything... You give without receiving, basically. But really, my perspective is that there is no relationship and no situation where you can give without receiving something. Because, everything you do gives you something. And from this perspective, everything is transactional down to the tiniest detail. Everything down to the cellular level is transactional. And, somehow, you can see transaction as this way of thinking where you and your body are always open to transaction, just by breathing and existing in a space. You're always making a trade.
TEODORA: Even Oxygen for CO2.
MARA: Exactly, yes.
MARCO: There’s also this thing… in order to take pictures of someone, you have to give something. And, most of the time, it's not money, although I like to give money sometimes. But mostly, it seems to me that it plays on this level of offering listening and understanding, which is somehow a rather scarce resource. And, if you can offer that authentically, you can also take pictures. And I know that this is a hot topic, I know that it could be seen as exploitative, and it can be, and it often is. But, at the same time, I believe in this way of working and believe that it has strength, so to speak. I mean there are people who are really extremely not heard and I think it's a nice exchange.
TEODORA: And how do you trade ideas and inspiration in a collective?
MARA: I think that the studio is the starting point. If you have this method of working in the same space, it's inevitable that everyone is going to be very... I mean, we're like sponges and we all absorb a lot of influences from each other. And slowly, by having this space, a kind of ecosystem of the collective is actually created in which we begin to understand what we can do together, and what others are doing. But, it's clearly a process.
IOANA: And it's quite an unconscious, and very organic, process. That’s the most interesting part, that you're not actively doing anything. You just spend time with these people, and at some point, you keep getting closer and closer, and your practices keep coming closer.
MARA: And after, decisions have to be made sometimes. For example, what project are we doing? It's good if we all agree. Sometimes we disagree, of course. But usually, we kind of agree.
MARCO: Yes, it seems to me that oftentimes the good decision is obvious, somehow.
MARA: And, you always have to let others express themselves at certain times. But these are very unconscious things. I don't think we have any rules of operation...
ANIO: It’s also somewhat voluntary, because, for example, if someone wants to know how to do, I don't know, some type of photography, you have Marco there and you can ask him.
MARA: Yes, there is a lot of power in having a number of people. You can simply do more things, there are more tasks to delegate. And you can learn, you always have someone to talk to, and someone to bounce off ideas with.
ANIO: And in our case, the idea of interdisciplinarity seems very important to me. That is, we are a number of people who have different knowledge, but we somehow overlap in matters of interest and things we want to do. So, we have the capability of creating more diverse things trading the tasks on hand, based on our skills.
MARCO: Of course, interdisciplinarity is super contemporary as an art practice, but it's also very difficult to do as a single person, to know many mediums very well, to really understand all of them.
TEODORA: Did the fact that you work in a group influence your personal practices?
MARCO: It influenced me quite a lot.
IOANA: I don't necessarily know if it’s because we work in a collective, but because we have this space. Again, the fact that we spend a lot of time together, you see certain things and feel inspired on a personal level as well.
MARCO: Somehow, I saw that, in the studio, we also have this mechanism that, when someone does something, they immediately receive feedback from others, and there is also this hyping-up mechanism, you know. I mean, it seems to me that it's an environment where it's easy to develop a kind of confidence in what you’re doing.
IOANA: I feel like I isolate myself when I do something personal.
MARA: Yes, somehow I also try to separate myself a little if I want to do something personal, because the room is definitely contagious. And, this is interesting because you also explore what the individual means within the collective. And, the fact that the whole space is so important to the collective, what does it mean when you have to do something individually in this space? It's a bit complicated sometimes.
TEODORA: And, a valuable lesson you learned from this teamwork?
IOANA: I think about how stressed I get when I work on things alone, and how much it helps to know that there are some people out there that you can rely on. I don't know if that's a valuable lesson, but it's definitely something I've learned. And that everything will be ok. That we are doing something, after all.
MARCO: It’s also emotional. I don't know, or at least for me. For example, I noticed that when we are in a collective, it is easier for me to be bold. Or at least, I feel less intimidated by the situations we have to deal with.
MARA: This is because you no longer have to assume things yourself, you’re doing it anonymously somehow. You become part of the collective and you are not the only one in the world to assume something, which can be scary sometimes. To assume something by yourself, and to assume the possible..
IOANA: …failure.
MARA: Yes. It is easier for you to assume failure as part of the collective. Together. It is true. But think about it, that us.. I mean Marco and I and Anio also live together. It is a relationship that works on many levels. Marco and Anio have been together for 6-7 years. I’ve known Ioana for 12 years now. I mean, it is a very intense thing, we’ve been very entangled for a long time.
TEODORA: But you never argue?
MARA: We just argued in the morning.
MARCO: We’re not joking.
TEODORA: How do you solve these conflicts when they appear?
MARCO: We reconcile. For example, I often yell at Mara. And often, Mara yells at me. And just as often, we apologize after 5 minutes.
TEODORA: How do you balance your voice on a personal level, with the expectations of the art world, or the public?
MARCO: We realize that the sphere we’ve chosen to work in as a collective is very fresh and new in Romania. I don't know about you, but I have total confidence that we are doing what we said we would do and that it will be good. Right?
MARA: I feel that there is a lot of openness towards what we do and this makes me believe that it will be good, that we don't have to worry and that there is no need for expectations. I don't know how to explain it. And actually, one thing that should be mentioned is funding. When you apply for funding, there is a certain type of project preferred. Projects that are oriented towards the outside world.
ANIO: You have to dress the project.
MARA: Yes, and you have to dress it in this utilitarian framework and explain why your project will have a positive social impact. So, anything you do with funding has to have a social agenda, because it is somehow connected with the European Union. And when you work with the state, there is always this element, art with a positive impact, art that has to have..
MARCO:…a political agenda.
MARA: Yes. In a way, a low-key political thing. This is another thing, as an association, we can't do something that is too obscene. We can't do something that is too directly political. Because…
ANIO: To have a political agenda is illegal.
MARA: If we are talking about some constraints, these are the constraints. There is a certain facade that you have to keep in this legal context, when you work with the state.
IOANA: You have to be more aware of how you are perceived.
MARA: Especially by people from outside the art world.
IOANA: More family friendly.
ANIO: To be peachy.
TEODORA: It’s interesting, because you are working in this social area of the politics of ecology..
MARA: It can be political, but not directly political. Not attached to any political figure. You can do it with political nuances. Because anyway..
IOANA: You can't avoid this. You can’t isolate it completely..
MARCO: Anyway, the discourse in Romania, or probably in any country around the globe, with some exceptions, is that ecology is good, save the planet. So, any work you do in this area is political, but everyone agrees on the discourse level.
MARA: There is also a preferred agenda in the art world. But, we as people align well with this agenda. I mean, we are socially aware, we like ecology, these are very favored things in the art world.
MARCO: Maybe it's another thing to say that this is related to works that can be sold and works that cannot be sold.
MARA: Because when we rely on funds, we are no longer interested in the commercial part. That's why we opted for funds, so that we can detach ourselves from the need to sell.
TEODORA: Which is very important, because you no longer need to be part of a commercial circuit, and you can focus more on this social goal of yours. I mean, it's clear from your projects, this recurrence of themes and messages that you bring up. But, do they also come from a more personal vision of life in general? For example, I started studying the arts in this anthropocentric scene after I left advertising, because I became so saturated by the abusiveness of the industry and the way I came to see it as an exploitative circle. Even though I was fascinated, at first, by this “art” of manipulation, I realized that it's not in tune with what I am militating against in this life, that my core principles and the way I see life, it was in active conflict with what I was doing.
MARCO: I thought about becoming a fashion photographer a long time ago, and I did some fashion shoots, and I really liked the process, but the goal is to sell clothes, which is not my passion… I mean, I really like the images, but I don't know if I'm really concerned with this idea of selling clothes. And, that's why I moved away from it. At some point I thought that if you want to make a difference in the world, maybe it's better to become a policymaker. But, I don't think I would have been happy as a policymaker. And then, this area of art appears, where you meet with a context of society, you self-express, but you also try to introduce some perspectives that may be useful for others, for the world you live in.
MARA: This is also a form of advertisement. It's an advertisement for ideas. Ideas that seem valuable to you.
TEODORA: This is very fascinating for me, because even though I’m still interested and working as a director of photography, when I started my master’s degree, I had this feeling that being a director of photography is something very selfish that doesn’t make sense. But, as I studied art and became interested in becoming a curator and artist with this very ecological stance, having in mind the idea that I would try to change the world, I realized that even as an artist you’re not totally selfless.
ALL: No, it's even more selfish.
TEODORA: Why does working with the non-human come so naturally to you, and especially animals?
IOANA: For me, it's so simple, because I've always liked animals and I've been fascinated by the natural world since I was little.
MARA: I also liked animals very much and I was a big activist in the animal area.
IOANA: We always had contact with animals. I mean, at home, at one point, my parents had 3 cats and 6 dogs. I found about 5 puppies in a box when I was little and brought them home and said that we had to adopt them. They were adopted by the whole street, somehow, and they became street dogs. I feel that that moment had a very big impact on me, because I was like, wow, I can save a life, somehow.
MARA: There's another thing that I think is very relevant for all four of us, that, let's say, people from more western countries have encounters with animals in rather controlled places. We grew up with packs of dogs on the street. Since you're a child, you have to learn how to relate, how to learn their behavior, their body language, and sometimes they can be a real danger. Romania is a country that has a lot of wilderness, animals, I mean, so it's a very good context to talk about the non-human, and to explore this, because people still have contact with animals, compared to more developed countries, where the animals have been kind of eliminated, where wilderness doesn't exist at all.
MARCO: Yes. For example, in Holland, nature exists very comfortably, in a totally tamed context. In Romania, there are a lot of points of tension.
ANIO: What interests me the most is the relationship we have with animals in the built environment, or how we define space for animals. Because in countries like Holland, there is bicycle infrastructure, but the animal infrastructure is still very underdeveloped.
MARCO: There were those bricks..
ANIO: Yes, in Holland you are obliged to place these bricks, that are empty on the interior, to host the birds and bats. In fact, I think it's a European policy. But, there are only very small steps that have been taken for animal integration.
TEODORA: And what is the goal of your team?
MARCO: It’s this idea of intersections between us and the outside world, intersections between disciplines, between species, and how this can materialize in projects.... But, another goal is the fact that there is this opportunity to do this thing together, because if anyone wants to form a team with whom to create and to make projects, it's hard, it's very hard. I mean, it takes time, trust is gained over time.
MARA: Yes, but I don't think everyone starts a team in a systematic way. I mean, almost everyone starts a team because they already have someone to work with.
MARCO: And to have someone to work with is an opportunity to say, look, I have someone, let's do it. And it’s also an opportunity because there’s a lot of potential in a team.