LA CASA

What does it mean to inhabit?

Walls, rooms, furniture, windows all hold a certain gravity. When inhabited, they become charged with emotional and cultural value; a constellation of beings, and gestures that are definers of one’s becoming. The domestic sphere is never neutral; it is in constant transformation, absorbing the traces of those who move through it. La Casa is a refuge and stage, a place where gestures and objects become conduits for memory, imagination, and care. It is a space where feeling itself becomes inhabitable, where intimacy, play, and disobedience reshape the domestic into something alive.

“To inhabit is to shape the world; and let the world shape us in return“

So what does it mean, then, to inhabit? And how does dwelling shape us through the passing of years: through childhood and adulthood, migration and return? To live with another, or to choose solitude; to share a home with family, or to leave in search of another space to call our own. To escape, or to come back, to a place real or imagined, where we once felt safe.

To inhabit is to dwell within transformation. Every act of recollecting, or saving objects rearranges our inner architecture. The home becomes a container and witness of the dust of seasons, the residue of invisible attachments, the fragments we hide, save, or display. In La Casa, objects are never neutral; they are vessels that remember, archives of the living that allow memory to circulate.

But to inhabit is also to withdraw. Here, silence and voids coexist in warmth. To live within such a space is to confront forms of existence that reveal themselves only in the expectation of hiding, in the quiet patience of lingering. La Casa allows sheltering while tethering us to the traces of the world and the ghosts of our own histories.

“The home is the first place where the world takes form - Knowledge, culture, and emotion are materially produced”

We often dismiss the domestic as trivial or private, maybe even apolitical; but it’s here, in the small acts of daily life, that we first learn what it means to live ethically. To cook, to host, to share, to attend to another: these gestures transform private interiors into fragile architectures of relation. La Casa becomes a site where lives intersect. Every act of care: folding a shirt, keeping a letter under a bed, rearranging a chair, reorders our space and in return our being. It is a miniature cosmos, where repetition sustains what might otherwise vanish, a slow philosophy of continuity.

La Casa gathers artists who work from and through intimacy, whose gestures transform structures from the physical into emotional and social frameworks. Here, play and experiment unfold, into invisible threads of attachment, displacement, and desire. With every invitation, every repetition, every trace left behind, La Casa collects what remains of us: the films we’ve watched, the books we’ve read, our friends and uninvited guests, the persistence of solitude, and the shared silence of loneliness.

Welcome.

crédit photo Objets pointus